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RE-CREATIONS 

















RE-CREATIONS 


BY 

GRACE LIVINGSTON HILL 


AUTHOR OF 

TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME, 
THE CITY OF FIRE, 
MARCIA SCHUYLER, Etc. 



PHILADELPHIA 

J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY 

LONDON 








COPYRIGHT, 1921, 1922, BY GOLDEN RULE COMPANY 
COPYRIGHT, 1924, BY J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY 



PRINTED IN UNITED STATES OF AMERICA 


RE-CREATIONS 


CHAPTER I 

Cornelia Copley pressed her face against the win¬ 
dow-pane of the car and smiled with brave showing of 
courage as the train moved away from the platform 
where her college mates huddled eagerly for the last 
glimpse of her. 

“Don’t forget to write, Cornie!” shouted a girl with 
black eyes and a frantic green sweater over a green and: 
yellow striped sport-skirt. 

“Remember you’re to decorate my house when I’m 
married!” screamed a pink-cheeked damsel with blue eyes 
and bewitching dimples. 

“Be sure to come back for commencement!” chorused 
three others as the train got fairly under way. 

Cornelia watched the staid old gray buildings pencilled 
over with the fine lines of vines that would burst into green 
tenderness as soon as the spring should appear, and thought 
how many good times she had had within those walls, and 
how terrible, how simply unthinkable it was that they 
were over forever, and she would never be able to gradu¬ 
ate! With gathering tears in her throat and blurring 
into her vision she watched till the last flutter of the flag 
on the top of Dwight Hall vanished, the big old cherry- 

tree gnarled and black against the November sky faded 

5 


RE-CREATION S 


into the end of the library, and even the college hedge 
was too far back to discern; then she settled slowly back 
into her seat, much as a bit of wax candle might melt and 
droop before the outpouring of sudden heat. She dropped 
into her seat so sadly and so crushingly that the sweet¬ 
faced lady in the long seal-skin coat across the aisle turned 
and looked commiseratingly at her. Poor child! Now 
what was she having to endure she wondered, as she 
watched the sweet lips drop at the corners, the dimples 
around the eyes disappear, and the long lashes sweep down 
too late to catch the great tear that suddenly rolled out 
and down the round, fair cheek. 

Cornelia sat with her face turned toward the window, 
and watched the familiar way for a long time through 
unseeing eyes. She was really looking into a hard and 
cruel future that had suddenly swooped down upon her 
and torn her from her mates, her career in life, all 
that she thought she held dear, and was sending her to 
an undesirable home among a family who did not under¬ 
stand her and her aspirations nor appreciate her ability. 
Her mouth took on hard little alien lines, and her deep, 
dreamy eyes looked almost steely in their distress. It all 
seemed so unnecessary. Why couldn’t father understand 
that her career meant so much, and another year or two 
in college would put her where she could be her own mis¬ 
tress and not be dependent upon him? Of course she 
couldn’t argue with him about it just now after that rather 
touching letter he had written; but if he had only under¬ 
stood how important it was that she should go on and 


RE-CEE ATION S 


7 


finish her course, if only any of them load ever understood, 
she was sure he would have managed someway to get 
along without recalling her. She took out the letter and 
read it over again. After all, she had scarcely had time 
to read it carefully in all its details, for a telegram had 
followed close upon it bidding her come at once, as she 
was badly needed, and of course she had packed up and 
started. This was the letter, written in a cramped 
clerkly hand: 

“Dear Daughter, 

“I am very sorry to have to tell you that your mother, 
who has been keeping up for the last six months by sheer 
force of will, has given out, and seems to be in quite a 
serious condition. The doctor has told us that nothing 
but absolute rest and an entire change will save her to 
us, and of course you will understand that we are so 
rejoiced over the hope he holds out that we are trying 
to forget the sorrow and anxiety of the present, and to 
get along as best we can without her. I have just returned 
from taking her, with the assistance of a trained nurse, 
to the Rest Cure Sanitarium at Quiet Valley over at the 
other end of the State, where the doctor tells me she will 
have just the conditions and treatment that her case re¬ 
quires. You will be glad to know that she was quite 
satisfied to go, feeling that it was the only possible thing 
left to do, and her main distress was that you would 
have to leave college and come home to take her place. 
My dear Nellie, it grieves me to the heart to have to write 
( this and ask you to leave your beloved work and come home 
to help us live, but I see no other way out. Your Aunt 
Pennell has broken her leg, and will not be able to be 


8 


RE-CREATIONS 


about all winter; and, even if she were well enough, she 
never seems to understand how to get along with Harry 
and Louise. 

“And then, even if there were any one else, I must 
tell you that there is another reason why coming home 
is necessary. It is that I cannot afford to let you stay 
at college. I cannot tell you how hard it looks to me writ¬ 
ten out on paper, and how my spirit sinks beneath the 
thought that I have come to this, that I cannot afford 
to let my daughter finish her education as she 
had planned, because I have not been able to make 
money enough to do all the other things that have to be 
done also. I have tried to keep the knowledge of my heavy 
losses from you until you should be through with your 
work at college. Mother and I thought we could get along 
and not let you know about it, because we knew you would 
insist on coming right home and helping; but now since 
mother has broken down you will have to be told the 
truth. Indeed, I strongly suspect that your mother in 
her great love for you and the others has brought on this 
weak state of health by overdoing, although we tried all 
we could to keep her from working too hard. You will, 
I know, want to help in every way you can, so that we 
shall be able to surround your dear mother with every 
necessity and even luxury that she should have, and so 
make her recovery more sure and speedy. It costs a 
good deal at Quiet Valley. It is an expensive place; but 
nothing is too good for your dear patient mother, who 
has quietly been giving her very life for us all without 
letting us know how ill she was. 

“There is another painful thing I must tell you, and 
that is that we have had to move from our old home, also 
on account of the expense, and you will not find it nearly 


RE-CREATIONS 


9 


so pfeasant or convenient here as at the old house; but 
I know my brave daughter will bear it like a soldier, and 
be as helpful and resourceful as her mother has always 
been. It gives me great comfort to think of your immediate 
coming, tor Louise is workng too hard for so young a 
girl. Harry helps her as much as he can. Moreover, I 
feel troubled about Carey. He is getting into the habit 
of staying out late with the boys, and—but you will know 
how to help him when you get here. You and he were 
always good comrades. I cannot tell you what a tower 
of strength you seem to me to be just now in this cul¬ 
mination of trials. Be sure to telegraph me on what 
train you will arrive, and we will meet you. 

“With deep regret at the necessity of this recall, which 
I know will be a great trial to you, 

Your loving father.” 

Cornelia looked like anything but a tower of strength 
as she folded the letter and slipped it back into her hand¬ 
bag with a deep-drawn sigh. It had given her the same 
feeling of finality that had come when she first read it 
She had hoped there might be a glimmer, a ray, some¬ 
where in this second reading that would help her to hope 
she might go back to college pretty soon when she had 
put the family on its feet again and found the right person 
to look after them. But this money affair that father 
laid so much emphasis upon was something that she could 
not quite understand. If father only understood how 
much money she could make once she was an interior 
decorator in some large established firm he would see that 
a little money spent now would bring large returns. Why, 
even if he had to borrow some to keep her in college till 


10 RE-CREATIONS 

her course was finished, he would lose nothing in the end. 

Cornelia put her head back against the cushion and 
closed her eyes wearily. She hadn’t slept much the night 
before, and her nerves were taut and strained. This was 
the first minute in which she had done anything like relax 
since the letter came—right into the midst of a junior 
show in which she had had charge of all the stage settings! 
It really had been dreadful to leave when she was the 
only one who knew where everything should be. She 
had spent half the night before making drawings and 
coloring them, and explaining to two half-comprehending 
classmates; but she was sure they would make some ter¬ 
rible mistake somewhere, and she would be blamed with 
the inharmony of the thing. It was too bad when she had 
acquired the reputation of being the only girl in college 
who could make such effects on the stage. Well, it couldn’t 
be helped! 

Of course she was sorry her mother was sick, but 
father spoke hopefully, confidently about her, and the rest 
would probably do her good. It wasn't as if mother were 
hopelessly ill. She was thankful as any of them that 
that had not come. But mother had always understood 
her aspirations, and if she were only at home would show 
father how unreasonable it was for her to have to give 
up now when only a year and a half more and the goal 
would be reached, and she could become a contributing 
member of the family, rather than just a housekeeper! 

Over and over the sorrowful round Cornelia’s thoughts 
went as mile after mile rushed away under the wheels and 


RE-CREATIONS 


11 


home drew nearer. Now and then she thought a little 
of how it would be when she got home; but when one 
had to visualize an entirely new home about which one 
had not heard a thing, not even in what part of the city 
it was located, how could one anticipate a home-coming? 
They must have just moved, she supposed, and probably 
mother had worked too hard settling. Mother always 
did that. Indeed, Cornelia had been so entirely away 
from home during her college life that she was almost 
out of harmony with it, and her sole connection had been 
gay little letters mostly filled with what she was going 
to do when she finished her course and became an inte¬ 
rior decorator. 

It was almost two years since she had been at home, 
for last summer and the summer before she had spent 
in taking special courses in a summer school not far from 
her college, and the intervening Christmas she had been 
invited to a wonderful house party in New York at the 
home of one of her classmates who had unlimited money 
and knew just how to give her friends a good time. Mother 
had thought these opportunities too good to be wasted, 
and to her surprise father also had been quite willing 
for her to spend the extra time and money, and so she 
had grown quite away from the home and its habits. She 
began to feel, as she drew nearer and nearer to the home 
city, almost as if she were going among strangers. 

It was growing quite dusky, and lights were glinting 
out in stray farmhouses along the way. The train was 
due in the city at seven o’clock. It was almost six, and 


RE-CREATIONS 


13 

the box of fudge that the girls had supplied her with had 
palled upon her. Somehow she did not feel hungry, only 
sick at heart and woefully homesick for the college, and 
the ripple of laughter and chatter down the corridors; 
the jokes about college fish, and rice pudding; the dear, 
funny interchange of confidences; even the themes that 
had to be written! How gladly would she go back now 
and never grumble about anything if she only knew she 
could finish without an interruption, and then to the city 
to take bachelor apartments with Mable and Alice as 
they had planned, and get into big work! O the dreams, 
the bubbles that were being broken with all their pretty 
glitter of rainbow hues gone into nothingness! O the 
drab monotony of simple home life! 

So her thoughts beat restlessly through her brain, 
and drove the tears into her smarting eyes. 

Presently the train halted at a station, and a small 
multitude rushed in, breezy, rough, and dirty, with loud 
voices and garments covered with grease and soil; toilers 
of the road, they were going back to the city, tossing 
their clamor across the car, settling their implements out 
of the way under their big muddy shoes. One paused 
before Cornelia’s empty half seat, and suddenly before 
he could sit down a lady slipped into it, with a smile and 
a motion toward a whole empty seat across the aisle. The 
man accepted the offer good-naturedly, summoning a fel¬ 
low laborer to share it with him, and Cornelia looked up 
relieved to meet the smile of her seal-clad former neigh¬ 
bor across the aisle. 


RE-CREATIONS 


13 


“I thought it would be pleasanter for us both dear, 
if I came over here,” she murmured with a smile. “They 
were pretty strong of garlic.” 

“Oh, thank you!” said Cornelia, and then grew shy 
as she noticed the jewels on the delicate hand that rested 
on the soft fur. What part had she in life with a woman 
like this, she who had to leave college because there wasn’t 
money enough to let her stay till she had finished ? Per¬ 
haps she was the least bit ungracious to the kindly woman 
who had made the move obviously for her protection, but 
the kindly stranger would not be rebuffed. 

“I’ve been watching you all the afternoon,” she said. 
“And Pm glad of this opportunity of getting acquainted 
with you if you don’t mind. I love young people.” 

Cornelia wished her seatmate would keep still or go 
away but she tried to smile gratefully. 

“I was so interested in all those young people who 
came down to see you off. It reminded me of younger 
days. Was that a college up on the hill above the station?” 

Now indeed was Cornelia’s tongue loosed. Her be¬ 
loved college! Ah, she could talk about that even to ladies 
clad in furs and jewels, and she was presently launched 
in a detailed description of the junior play, her face 
kindling vividly under the open admiration of the white- 
haired, beautiful woman, who knew just how to ask the 
right questions to bring out the girl’s eager tale, and who 
responded so readily to every point she brought out. 

“And how is it that you are going away?” she asked 
at last. “I should think you could not be spared. You seem 


14 


JftE-CREATIONS 


to have been the moving spirit in it all. But I suppose 
you are returning in time to do your part.” 

Cornelia’s face clouded over suddenly, and she drew 
a deep sigh. For the moment she had forgotten. It was 
almost as if the pretty lady had struck her in the face 
with her soft, jewelled hand. She seemed to shrink in¬ 
to herself. 

“No,” she said at last sadly, “I’m not going back—» 
ever, I’m afraid.” The words came out with a sound 
almost like a sob, and were wholly unintentional with 
Cornelia. She was not one to air her sorrows before 
strangers, or even friends, but somehow the whole tragedy 
had come over her like a great wave that threatened to 
engulf her. She was immediately sorry that she had 
spoken, however, and tried to explain in a tone less tragic. 
“You see, my mother is not well and had to go away, 
and—they—needed me at home.” 

She lifted her clouded eyes to meet a wealth of admira¬ 
tion in the older woman’s gaze. 

“How beautiful! To be needed, I mean,” the lady 
said with a smile. “I can think just what a tower of 
strength you will be to your father. Your father is living?” 

“Yes,” gasped Cornelia with a sudden thought of 
how terrible it would be if he were gone. “Oh, yes; 
and it’s strange—he used these very words when he wrote 
me to come home.” Then she grew rosy with the realiza¬ 
tion of how she was thinking out loud to this 
elegant stranger. 


'.RE-CREATIONS 


15 


“Of course he would/’ assented the lady. “I can see 
that you are! I was thinking that as I watched you all 
the afternoon. You seem so capable and so— sweet!” 

“Oh, but I’m not!” burst out the girl honestly. “I’ve 
been real cross about it ever since the letter came. You 
see,”—and she drew her brows earnestly trying to justify 
herself,—“you see I can’t help thinking it’s all a mistake. 
I’m glad to go home and help; but some one else could 
have done that, and I think I could have helped to better 
purpose if I had been allowed to stay and finish my course, 
and then been able to help out financially. Father has 
lost some money lately, which has made things hard, and 
I was planning to be an interior decorator. I should soon 
have been able to do a good deal for them.” 

“Oh, but my dear! No one can take a daughter’s 
place in a home when there is trouble, not such a daughter’s 
place as you occupy, I’m sure. And as for the other thing, 
if you have it in you it will come out, you may be sure. 
You’ll begin by decorating the home interior, and you 
won’t lose anything in the end. Such things are never 
lost nor time wasted. God sees to that, if you are doing 
your best right where He put you. I can just see 
what an exquisite spot you’ll make of that home, and 
how it will rest your mother to know you are taking 
her place.” 

Cornelia sadly shook her head. 

“There won’t be any chance for decorating,” she said 
slowly. “They’ve had to move away from the home 
we owned, and father said it wasn’t very pleasant there.” 


16 


RE-CREATIONS 


“All the more chance for your talents!” said the 
lady with determined cheerfulness. “I know you have 
a sense of the beautiful, for I’ve been studying that lovely 
little hat you wear, and how well it suits your face and 
tones with your coat and dress and gloves. How ever 
unpleasant and gloomy that new house may be, it will 
begin to glow and blossom and give out welcome widiin 
a short time after you get there. I should like to look 
in and prove the truth of my words. Perhaps I shall 
sometime, who knows ? You just can’t help making things 
fit and beautiful. There’s a look in your face that makes 
me sure. Count the little house your opportunity, as 
every trial and test in this world really is, you know, and 
you’ll see what will come. I know, for I’ve seen it tried 
again and again.” 

“But one can’t do much, without money,” sighed 
Cornelia, “and money is what I had hoped to earn.” 

“You’ll earn it yet, very likely; but, even if you don’t, 
you’ll do the things. Why, the prettiest studio I ever saw 
was furnished with old boxes covered with bark and 
lichens, and cushioned with burlap. The woodwork was 
cheap pine stained dark, the walls were rough, and 
there was a fireplace built from common cobblestones. 
When the tea-kettle began to sing on the hearth, and my 
friend got out her little cheap teacups from the ten-cent 
store, I thought it was the prettiest place I ever saw, and 
all because she had put herself into it and not money, 
and made everything harmonize. You’ll do it yet. I 
can see it in your eyes. But here we are at last in the 


RE-CREATIONS 


17 


city, and aren’t you going to give me your address ? Here’s 
mine on this card, and I don’t want to lose you now I’ve 
found you. I want you to come and see me sometime 
if possible, and if I get back to this city again sometime, 
—I’m only passing through now, and meeting my son 
to go on to Washington with him in the morning,—but 
lif I get back this way sometime soon I want to look you 
up if I may, and see if I didn’t prophesy truly, my dear 
little Interior Decorator.” 

This was the kind of admiration Cornelia was used 
to, and she glowed with pleasure under it, her cheeks 
looking very pretty against the edge of brown fur on 
her coat-collar. She hastily scribbled the new address 
on one of her cards and handed it out with a dubious 
look, almost as if she would like to recall it. 

“I haven’t an idea what kind of a place it will be,” 
she said apologetically. “Father seemed to think I wouldn’t 
like it at all. Perhaps it won’t be a place I would be proud 
to have you see me in.” 

“I’m sure you’ll grace the place, however humble it 
is,” said the lady with a soft touch of her jewelled hand 
on Cornelia’s. And just then the train slid into the sta¬ 
tion and came to a halt. Almost immediately a tall young 
man strode down the aisle and stood beside the seat. It 
seemed a miracle how he could have arrived so soon, 
before the passengers had gathered their bundles ready 
to get out 

“Mother!” he said eagerly, lifting his hat with the 
grace and ease of a young man well versed in the usages 
2 


18 


RE-CREATIONS 


of the best society. And then he stooped and kissed her. 
Cornelia forgot herself in her admiration of the little 
scene. It was so beautiful to see a mother and son like 
this. She sighed wistfully. If only Carey could be like 
that with mother! What an unusual young man 
this one seemed to be! He didn’t look like a mollycoddle, 
either. He treated his mother like a beloved comrade. 
Cornelia sat still watching, and then the mother turned 
and introduced her. 

“Arthur, I want you to meet Miss Copley. She has 
made part of the way quite pleasant and interesting 
for me.” 

Then Cornelia was favored with a quick, searching 
glance accompanied by a smile which was first cordial for 
his mother’s sake, and then grew more so with his own 
approval as he studied her. The girls his mother picked 
were apt to be satisfactory. She could see he was accept¬ 
ing her at the place where his mother left off. A moment 
more, and he was carrying her suitcase in one hand and 
his mother’s in the other, while she, walking with the 
lady, wondered at herself, and wished that fate were not 
just about to whirl her away from these most interest¬ 
ing people. 

Then she caught a glimpse of her father at the train 
gate, with his old derby pulled down far over his fore¬ 
head as if it were getting too big, and his shabby coat- 
collar turned up about his sunken cheeks. How worn 
and tired he looked! yes, and old and thin. She hadn’t 
remembered that his shoulders stooped so, or that his 


RE-CREATIONS 


19 


hair was so gray. Had all that happened in two years? 
And that must be Louise waving her handkerchief so 
violently just in front of him. Was that Harry in that* 
old red baseball sweater with a smudged white letter on 
his breast, and ragged wrists? He was chewing gum, too! 
Oh, if these new acquaintances would only get out of 
the way! It would be so dreadful to have to meet and 
explain and introduce! She forgot that she had a most 
speaking face, and that her feelings were quite open to the 
eyes of her new friends, until she suddenly looked up and 
found the young man’s eyes upon her interestedly, and then 
the pink color flew over her whole face in confusion. 

“Please excuse me,” she said, reaching out for her 
suitcase. “I see my father,” and without further for¬ 
malities she fairly flew down the remainder of the plat¬ 
form and smothered herself in the bosom of her family, 
anxious only to get them off to one side and away 
from observation. 

“She’s a lovely girl,” said the lady wistfully. “She 
wants to be an interior decorator, and make a name and 
fame for herself, but instead she’s got to go home from 
college and keep house for that rabble. Still, I think 
she’ll make good. She has a good face and sweet, true 
eyes. Sometime we’ll go and see her and find out.” 

“M’m!” said the son, watching Cornelia escape from 
a choking embrace from her younger brother and sister. 
“I should think that might be interesting,” and he walked 
quite around a group of chattering people greeting some 
friends in order that he might watch her the longer. But 


20 


RE-CREATIONS 


when Cornelia at last straightened her hat, and looked 
furtively about her, the mother and son had passed out 
of sight, and she drew a deep sigh of thanksgiving and 
followed her father and the children downstairs to the 
trolley. They seemed delightful people, and under other 
circumstances she might have heartily enjoyed their com¬ 
pany; but if she had hard things to face she didn’t want 
an audience while she faced them. Her father might be 
shabby and old; but he was her father, and she wasn’t 
going to have him laughed at by anybody, even if he 
didn’t always see things as she thought he ought to 
see them. 


CHAPTER II 


It was a long ride, and the trolley was chilly. Cornelia 
tried to keep from shivering and smile at everything 
Louise and Harry told her, but somehow things had got 
on her nerves. She had broken out into a perspiration 
with all the excitement at the station, and now felt cold 
and miserable. Her eyeballs ached with the frequent 
tears that had slipped their salt way that afternoon; and 
her head was heavy, and heavier her heart. 

Across the way sat her father, looking grayer and more 
worn in the garish light of the trolley. His hair straggled 
and needed cutting, and his cheeks were quite hollow. He 
gave a hollow cough now and then, and his eyes looked 
like haunted spirits; but he smiled contentedly across to 
her whenever he caught her glance. She knew he meant 
that she should feel how glad he was to get her back. She 
began to feel very mean in her heart that she could not 
echo his gladness. She knew she ought to, but some¬ 
how visions of what she had left behind, probably for¬ 
ever, got between her and her duty, and pulled down the 
corners of her mouth in a disheartening droop that made 
her smiles a formal thing, though she tried, she really 
did try, to be what this worn old father evidently expected 
her to be, a model daughter, glad to get home and sacrifice 
everything in life for them all. 

These thoughts made her responses to the children 
only half-hearted. Harry was trying to tell her how 

21 


£2 


RE-CREATIONS 


the old dog had died and they had omy tne little pup 
left, but it was so game it could beat any cat on the 
street in a fight already, and almost any dog. 

Louise chimed in with a tale about a play in school 
that she had to be in if Nellie would only help her get 
up a costume out of old things. But gradually the talk 
died down, and Louise sat looking thoughtfully across 
at her father’s tired face, while Harry frowned and puck¬ 
ered his lips in a contemplative attitude, shifting his gum 
only now and then enough to keep it going and fixing 
his eyes very wide and blue in deep melancholy upon the 
toe of his father’s worn shoe. Something was fast going 
wrong with the spirits of the children, and Cornelia was 
so engrossed in herself and her own bitter disappointment 
that she hadn’t even noticed it. 

In the midst of the blueness the car stopped, and Mr. 
Copley rose stifly with an apologetic smile toward his 
elder daughter. 

‘‘Well, this is about where we get off, Nellie,” he said 
half wistfully, as if he had done his brave best and it 
was now up to her. 

Something in his tone brought Cornelia keenly to 
her senses. She stumbled off the car, and looked around 
her breathlessly, while the car rumbled on up a strange 
street with scattering houses, wide open spaces reminding 
one of community baseball diamonds, and furtive heaps 
of tin cans and ashes. The sky was wide and open, with 
brilliant stars gleaming gaudily against the night, and a 
brazen moon that didn’t seem to understand how glar- 


RE-CREATIONS 


23 


ingly every defect in the locality stood out; but that only 
made the place seem more strange and barren to the girl. 
She had not known what she expected, but certainly not 
this. The houses about her were low and small, some of 
them of red brick made all alike, with faded greenish- 
blue shutters, and a front door at one side opening on 
a front yard of a few feet in dimensions, with a picket 
fence about it, or sometimes none at all. The house her 
father was leading her to was a bit taller than the rest, 
covered with clapboards weather-beaten and stained, 
guiltless of paint, as could be seen even at night, high 
ana narrow, with gingerbread-work in the gable and not 
even a porch to grace its poor bare face, only two steps 
and a plain wooden door. 

Cornelia gasped, and hurried in to shut herself and 
her misery away from the world. Was this what they 
had come to? No wonder her mother had given out! 

No wonder her father- But then her father—how 

could he have let them come to a place like this? It 
was terrible! 

Inside, at the end of the long, narrow hall the light 
from the dining-room shone cheerfully from a clean 
kerosene-lamp guiltless of shade, flaring across a red and 
white tablecloth. 

“We haven’t done a thing to the parlor yet,” said the 
father sadly, throwing open a door at his right as Cornelia 
followed him. “Your mother hadn’t the strength!” he 
sighed deeply. “But then,” he added more cheerfully, 
“what are parlors when we are all alive and getting well?” 



24 


RE-CREATIONS 

Cornelia cast a wondering look at him. She had not 
known her father thought so much of her mother. There 
was a half-glorified look on his face that made her think 
of a boy in love. It was queer to think it, but of course 
her mother and father had been young lovers once. Cor¬ 
nelia, her thoughts temporarily turned from her own 
brooding, followed into the desolate dining-room, and 
her heart sank. This was home! This was what she 
had come back to after all her dreams of a career and 
all her pride over an artistic temperament! 

There was a place set for her at one end of the red- 
clothed table, and a plaintive little supper drying up on 
the stove in the kitchen; but Cornelia was not hungry. 
She made pretence of nibbling at the single little burned 
lamb-chop and a heavy soda-biscuit. If she had known 
how the children had gone without meat to buy that lamb- 
chop, and how hard Louise had worked to make these 
biscuits and the apple-sauce that accompanied them, she 
might have been more appreciative; but as it was she 
was feeling very miserable indeed, and had no time from 
her own self-pitying thoughts to notice them at all. 

The dining-room was a dreary place. An old sofa 
that had done noble duty in the family when Cornelia 
was a baby lounged comfortably at one side, a catch-all 
for overcoats, caps, newspapers, bundles, mending, any¬ 
thing that happened along. Three of the dining-room 
chairs were more or less gone or emaciated in their seats. 
The cat was curled up comfortably in the old wooden 
rocker that had always gone by the name of “Father's 
rocker,” and wore an ancient patchwork cushion. The 


RE-CREATIONS 


25 


floor was partly covered by a soiled and worn Axminster 
rug whose roses blushed redly still behind wood-colored 
scrolls on an indiscriminate background that no one would 
ever suspect of having been pearl-gray once upon a time. 
The wall-paper was an ugly dirty dark-red, with tarnished 
gold designs, torn in places and hanging down, greasy 
and marred where chairs had rubbed against it and heads 
had apparently leaned. It certainly was not a charming 
interior. She curled her lip slightly as she took it all 
in. This her home! And she a born artist and inte¬ 
rior decorator! 

Her silence and lack of enthusiasm dampened the 
spirits of the children, who had looked to her coming to 
brighten the dreary aspect of things. They began to sit 
around silently and watch her, their keen young eyes pres¬ 
ently searching out her thoughts, following her gaze from 
wall-paper to curtainless window, from broken chair to 
sagging couch. 

‘‘We haven’t been able to get very much to rights,” 
sighed Louise in a suddenly grown-up, responsible tone, 
wrinkling her pink young brow into lines of care. “I 
wanted to put up some curtains before you got here, but 
I couldn’t find them. Father wouldn’t let me open the 
boxes till Carey came home to help. He said there was 
enough around for me to tend to, all alone, now.” 

“Of course,” assented the elder sister briefly and not 
at all sympathetically. In her heart she was thinking 
that curtains wouldn’t make any difference. What was 
the use of trying to do anything, anyway? Suppose the 
beautiful stranger who had been so sure she would make 


26 


RE-CREATIONS 


her home lovely could see her now. What would she 
think ? She drew a deep sigh. 

“I guess maybe I better go to bed,” said Louise sud¬ 
denly, blinking to hide a tendency to tears. It was some¬ 
how all so different from what she had expected. She had 
thought it would be almost like having mother back, and 
it wasn’t at all. Cornelia seemed strange and difficult. 

“Yes,” said the father, coming up from the cellar, 
where he had been putting the erratic furnace to bed for 
the night; “you and Harry better get right up to bed. 
You have to get up so early in the morning.” 

“Perhaps you’d like to come, too,” said Louise, turn¬ 
ing to Cornelia with one more attempt at hospitality. 
“You know you have to sleep with me; that is I sleep 
with you.” She smiled apologetically. “There isn’t any 
other room, you know,” she explained as she saw the look 
of dismay on Cornelia’s face. “I wanted to fix up the 
linen-closet for me, but father couldn’t find another cot 
yet. Harry sleeps on one cot up in a little skylight place 
in the third story that was only meant for a ladder to go 
up to the roof. Carey has the only real room on the 
third floor, and there aren’t but two on the second besides 
the little speck of a bathroom and the linen-closet.” 

A sudden realization of the trouble in the little sister’s 
eyes and voice brought Cornelia somewhat to her senses. 

“That’s all right, chicken,” she said, pinching the little 
girl’s cheek playfully. “We won’t fight, I guess. I’m 
quite used to a roommate, you know.” 

Louise’s face bloomed into smiles of hopefulness. 


RE-CREATIONS 


27 

“Oh, that will be nice,” she sighed. “Are you coming 
to bed now?” 

“You run along, Louise,” put in her father. “I guess 
Nellie and I will have a bit of a talk before she comes 
up. She’ll want to know all about mother, you know.” 

The two children withdrew, and Cornelia tried to for¬ 
get herself once more and bring her reluctant thoughts 
to her immediate future and the task that was before her. 

“What is the matter with mother?” she asked sud¬ 
denly, her thoughts still half impatient over the interrup¬ 
tion to her career. It was time she understood more defi¬ 
nitely just what had come in to stop her at this important 
time of her life. She wished that mother herself had 
written; mother never made so much of things, although 
of course she didn’t want to hurt her father by saying so. 

“Why, she was all run down,” said Mr. Copley, a 
shade of deep sadness coming over his gray face. “You 
see she had been scrimping herself for a long time, saving, 
that the rest of us might have more. We didn’t know it, 
of course, or we would have stopped it.” His voice was 
shamed and sorrowful. “We found she hadn’t been eat¬ 
ing any meat,”—his voice shook like an old man’s,—“ just 
to—save—more for the rest of us.” 

Cornelia looked up with a curl on her lip and a flash 
in her eyes; but there was something in her father’s broken 
look that held back the words of blame that had almost 
sprung to her lips, and he went on with his tale in a tone 
like a confession, as if the burden of it were all on him, 


28 JUS-CREATION S 

and were a cloak of shame that he must wear. It was as 
if he wanted to tell it all at its worst. 

“She didn’t tell us, either, when she began to feel bad. 
She must have been running down for the last three 
years; in fact, ever since you went away. Though she 
never let on. When Molly had to go home to her folks, 
your mother decided not to try to keep a servant. She 
said she could get along better with sending out the 
washing, and servants were a scarce article, and cost a 
lot. I didn’t want her to; but you know how your mother 
always was, and I had kind of got used to letting her 
have her own way, especially as about that time I had all 
I could do night and day at the office to try to prevent 
what I saw was coming for the business. She worked 
too hard. I shall never forgive myself!” He suddenly 
buried his face in his hands, and groaned. 

It was awful to Cornelia. She wanted to run and 
fling her arms about his neck and comfort him; yet she 
couldn’t help blaming him. Was he so weak? Why 
hadn’t he been more careful of the business, and not let 
things get into such a mess ? A man oughtn’t to be weak. 
But the sight of his trouble touched her strangely. How 
thin and gray his hair looked! It struck her again that 
he looked aged since she had seen him last. It gave her 
the effect of a cold douche in her face. 

“Don’t father!” she said, her voice full of suppressed 
pain, and a glint of tenderness. 

“Well, I know I oughtn’t to trouble you this way, 
daughter,” he said, looking up with a deprecatory smile; 


29 


RE-CREATIONS 

44 but somehow it comes over me how much she suffered 
in silence before we found it out, and then I can’t stand 
it, especially when I think what she was when I married 
her, so fresh-faced and pretty with brown hair and eyes 
just like yours. You make me think a lot of her, daughter. 
Well, it’s all over, thank the Lord,” he went on with a 
sigh, “and she’s on the mend again. You don’t know 
what it was to me the day of the operation.” 

“Operation!” The word caught in Cornelia’s throat, 
and a chill of horror crept over her. “Why, you never 
told me there was an operation!” 

“I know,” her father said apologetically. “That was 
mother, too! she wouldn’t have you troubled. She said 
it was just your examination time, and it would mean 
a great deal to you to get your marks; and it would only 
be a time of anxiety to you, and she was so sure she would 
come out all right. She was wonderfully brave, your 
mother was. And she hoped so much she’d be able to 
get up and around, and not have to bring you home till 
your course was over. We meant to manage it some¬ 
how; but you see we didn’t know how serious it was, 
and how she would have to go away and stay a long time 
till she was strong.” 

Cornelia’s eyes were filled with tears now. She had 
forgotten her own disappointments and the way she had 
been blaming her father, and was filled with remorse for 
the little mother who had suffered and thought of her to 
the last. She got up quickly, and went over to gather 
the bowed head of her father into her unaccustomed arms 


30 


RE-CEE ATION S 


and try somehow to be daughterly. It was strange be¬ 
cause she had been away so long and had got out of the 
way of little endearments, but she managed it so that 
the big man was comforted and smiled at her, and told 
her again and again how good it was to have her back, 
almost as good as having her mother. Then he stroked 
her hair, looked into her wise young eyes, and called her 
his little Nellie-girl, the way she could remember his 
doing before she went away to school. 

When Cornelia went upstairs at last with the kerosene- 
lamp held high above her head so that she would not 
stumble up the steep, winding staircase, she had almost 
forgotten herself and her ambitions, and was filled with 
a desire to comfort her father. 

She dropped into her place beside the sleeping sister 
with a martyr-like quiet, and failed to notice the dis¬ 
couraged droop of the little huddled figure, and the tear- 
stained cheek that was turned toward the dingy wait. 
The dreariness of the room and the close quarters had 
brought depression upon her spirits once more, and she 
lay a long time filled with self-pity, and wondering how- 
in the world she was ever to endure it all. 


CHAPTER III 


In the dimness of the early morning Louise Copley 
awoke with a sigh to consciousness, and softly slid her 
hand down to the floor under the bed, where she had hid- 
den the old alarm-clock. With a sense that her elder 
sister was still company she had not turned on the alarm 
as usual, and now with clock-like regularity and a sense 
of responsibility far beyond her years she had wakened 
at a quarter to six as promptly as if the whir of the alarm 
had sounded underneath her pillow. 

She rubbed her eyes open, and through the half-lifted 
fringes took a glance. Yes it was time to get up. With 
one more lingering rub at her sleepy young eyes she put 
the clock back under the bed out of the way, and stole 
quietly over the footboard, watching furtively her sleep¬ 
ing sister. How pretty Nellie was even in the early 
gray light of morning, with all that wavy mane of hair 
sweeping over the pillow, and her long lashes lying on 
the pink curve of her cheek! Louise wondered incredu¬ 
lously whether she would be half as pretty as that when 
she was as old as her sister. 

It was nice to have a big sister at home, but now she 
was here Louise wondered in a mature little housewifely 
way what in the world they were going to do with her. 
She didn’t look at all fit for cooking and things like that, 
and Louise sighed wearily as she struggled with the 
buttons, and thought of the day before her, and the end- 

31 


RE-CREATIONS 


32 

less weeks that must go by before they could hope for 
the return of the dear mother who had made even poverty 
sweet and cheerful. And there was that matter of a 
spring hat, and a costume to wear at the school enter¬ 
tainment. She stole another glance at the lovely sleeping 
sister, and decided it would not do to bother her with 
little trifles like that. She would have to manage them 
somehow herself. Then, with the last button conquered, 
and a hasty tying back of her yellow curls with a much- 
worn ribbon, she tiptoed responsibly from the room, tak¬ 
ing care to shut the latch securely and silently behind her. 

She sped downstairs, and went capably at the kitchen 
stove, coaxing it into brightness and glancing fearfully 
at the kitchen clock. It was six o’clock, and she could 
hear her father stirring about in his room. He would 
be down soon to look after the furnace; and then she 
must have breakfast on the table at once, for he must 
catch the six-fifty-five car. The usual morning frenzy 
of rush seized her, and she flew from dining-room to 
pantry, to the refrigerator for butter, out to the front 
door for the bottle of milk that would be there, back to 
the pantry cutting bread, and back to the stove to turn 
the bacon and be sure it did not bum. It was a mad race, 
and sometimes she felt like crying by the time she sat 
down to the table to pour her father’s coffee, which some¬ 
how, try as she would, just would not look nor taste 
like mother’s. She was almost relieved that her sister 
had given no sign of awakening yet; for she had not 
had time to make the breakfast table look nice, and it was 


RE-CREATIONS 


S3 


so kind of exciting to try to eat in a hurry and have “sort 
of company” to think about at the same time. 

The father came downstairs peering into the dining¬ 
room anxiously, with an apology on his lips for his eld¬ 
est child. 

“That’s right, Louie; I’m glad you let her sleep. She 
looked all wearied out last night with her long journey, 
and then I guess it’s been a kind of a shock to her, too.” 

“I guess it has,” said the little girl comfortably, and 
passed him his cup of coffee and the bread-plate. They 
both had a sense of relief that Cornelia was not there and 
that there was a legitimate reason tor not blaming her 
tor her absence. Neither had yet been willing to admit 
to their loyal selves that Cornelia’s attitude of apathy to 
the family strait had been disappointing. They kept hop¬ 
ing against hope. 

Mr. Copley finished his coffee hurriedly, and looked 
at his watch. 

“Better let her sleep as long as she will,” he said. “She’ll 
likely be awake before you need to go to school; and, if 
she isn’t, you can leave a note telling her where to find 
things. Where’s Harry? Isn’t he up?” 

“Oh, yes, he went to the grocery for the soup-bone 
he forgot to get last night. I was going to put it on 
cooking before I left. I thought maybe she wouldn’t 
know to-” 

“That’s right! That’s right! You’re a good little 
girl, Louie. Your sister’ll appreciate that. Make Harry 
eat a good breakfast when he gets bpck. It isn’t good to 



34 


RE-CREATIONS 


go out on an empty stomach; and we must all keep well, 
and not worry mother, you know.” 

“Yes, I know,” sighed the little girl with a responsible 
look; “I made him take a piece with him, and I’m saving 
something hot for him when he comes back. He’ll help 
me with the dishes, he said. We’ll make out all right. 
Don’t you worry, father, dear.” 

The father with a tender father-and-mother-both smile 
came around, and kissed her white forehead where the 
soft baby-gold hair parted, and then hurried away to his 
car, thankful for the mother’s look in his youngest girl’s 
face; wondering whether they had chased it forever away 
from the eldest girl’s face by sending her too young 
to college. 

It was to the soft clatter of pots and pans somewhere 
in the near distance that Cornelia finally awakened with 
a sense of terrible depression and a belated idea that she 
ought to be doing something for the family comfort. 
She arose hastily, and dressed, with a growing distaste 
for the new day and what was before her. Even the 
view from the grimy little bedroom window was dis¬ 
couraging. It was a gray day, and one could see there 
were intentions of rain in the mussy clouds that hurled 
themselves across the distant roof-tops. The window 
looked out into the back yard, a small enclosure with a 
fence needing paint, and dishearteningly full of rusty tin 
cans and old, weather-stained newspapers and rubbish. 
Beyond the narrow dirty alley were rows of other simi¬ 
lar back yards, with now and then a fluttering dishcloth 


RE-CREATIONS 


55 


hanging on a string on a back porch, and plenty of heaped- 
up ash cans everywhere you looked. They were the bade 
doors of houses of the poorer class, most of them two- 
story and old. Farther on there was an excellent view 
of a large and prosperous dump-heap in a wide, cavernous 
lot that looked as if it had suffered from earthquake some¬ 
time in the dim past and lost its bottom, so capacious it 
seemed as its precipitous sides sloped down, liberally 
coated with “dump.” Cornelia gave a slight shiver of 
horror, and turned from the window. To think of hav¬ 
ing to look at a view like that all summer. A vision of 
the cool, leafy camp where she had spent two weeks the 
summer before floated tantalizingly before her sad eye« 
as she slowly went downstairs. 

It was a plaintive little voice that arrested her atten¬ 
tion and her progress half-way down, a sweet, tired young 
voice that went to her heart, coming from the open kitchen 
door and carrying straight through the open dining-room 
and through the hall up to her: 

“I guess she doesn’t realize how much we needed her,” 
it said sadly; “and I guess she’s pretty disappointed at the 
house and everything. It’s pretty much of a change from 
college, of course.” 

Then a young, indignant high tenor growl: 

“H’m! What does she think she is, anyway? Some 
queen? I guess the house has been good enough for us. 
How does she think we’ve stood being poor all these 
years just to keep her in college? I’d like to know. This 
house isn’t sq much worse’n the last one we were in. It’s 


36 


RE-CREATIONS 


a peach beside some we might have had to take if these 
folks hadn’t been just moving out now. What does 
she want to do anyhow? Isn’t her family good enough 
for her, or what? If I ever have any children, I shan’t 
send ’em to college, I know that. It spoils ’em. And I 
don’t guess I’ll ever go myself. What’s her little old 
idea, anyway? Who crowned her?” 

“Why, she wants to be an interior decorator,” said 
the little sister, slowly hanging up the dishcloth. “I guess 
it’s all right, and she’d make money and all; only we just 
couldn’t help her out till she got through her course.” 

“Interior decorator!” scornfully said the boy. “I’d 
be satisfied if she’d decorate my interior a little. I’d like 
some of mother’s waffles, wouldn’t you? And some hash 
and johnny-cake. Gee! Well, I guess we better get a 
hustle on, or we’ll be called down for tardiness. You 
gotta wake her up before you go?” 

“Father said not to; I’m just going to leave a note. 
It’s all written there on the dining-room table. You put 
some coal on the range, and I’ll get my hat and coat; and 
the little sister moved quickly toward the hall. 

Cornelia in sudden panic turned silently, and sped 
back to her room, closing the door and listening with 
wildly beating heart till her young brother and sister went 
out the door and closed it behind them. Then, obeying 
an impulse that she did not understand, she suddenly flung 
her door open, and flew to her father’s front bedroom 
window for a sight of them as they trudged off with 
piles of books under their arms, two valiant young com- 


RE-CREATIONS 


37 


rades, just as she and Carey used to be in years so long 
ago and far away that she had almost forgotten them. 
And how they had stabbed her, her own brother and 
sister, talking about her as if she were a selfish alien, who 
had been living on their sacrifices for a long time! What 
could it possibly mean? Surely they were mistaken. 
Children always exaggerated things, and of course the few 
days or perhaps weeks since their father had lost his 
money had seemed a long time to them, poor little souls. 
Of course it had been hard for them to get along even a 
few days without mother, and in this awful house. But 
—how could they have talked that way? How terrible 
of them! There were tears in her eyes and a pain in her 
heart from the words, for, after all, in spite of her self- 
centred abstraction she did love them all; they were hers, 
and of course dearer than anything else on earth. Yes, even 
than interior decorating, and of course it was right that 
she should come home and make them comfortable, only 
—if only! 

But the old unrest was swept back by the memory of 
those cutting words in the young high voices. She sank 
down in an old armchair that stood by the window, and 
let the tears have their way for a minute. Somehow she 
felt abused by the words of the children. They had mis¬ 
judged her, and it wasn’t fair! It was bad enough to 
have to give up everything and come home, without being 
misjudged and called selfish. 

But presently the tears had spent themselves, and she 
began to wipe her eyes and look around. Her father’s 


38 RE-CREATIONS 

room was as desolate as any other. There was no evidence 
of an attempt to put comfort into it. The upper part 
of the heavy walnut bureau, with its massive mirror that 
Cornelia remembered as a part of the furniture of her 
mother’s room since she was a baby, had not been screwed 
to the bureau, but was standing on the floor as if it 
had just moved in. The bureau-top was covered with 
dust, worn, mussed neckties, soiled collars, and a few old 
letters. Her father’s few garments were strewn about 
the room and the open closet door revealed some of her 
mother’s garments, old ones that Cornelia remembered 
she had had before she herself went to college. 

On the unmade bed, close beside the pillow, as if it 
had been cherished for comfort, was one of mother’s old 
calico wrappers. It was lying where a cheek might con¬ 
veniently rest against it. Somehow Cornelia didn’t think 
of that explanation of its presence there at first; but later 
it grew into her consciousness, and the pathetic side of 
it filled her with dismay. Was life like this always, or 
was this a special preparation for her benefit ? 

Somehow, as she sat there, her position as a selfish, 
unloving daughter became intolerable. Could it be pos¬ 
sible that the children had spoken truly and that the family 
had been in straightened circumstances for a longer time 
than just a few weeks, on account of keeping her in col¬ 
lege ? The color burned in her cheeks, and her eyes grew 
heavy with shame. How shabby everything looked! She 
didn’t remember it that way. Her home had always seemed 


RE-CREATIONS 


39 

a comfortable one as she looked back upon it. Somehow 
she could not understand. But the one thought that 
burned into her soul was that they had somehow felt her 
lacking, ungrateful. 

Suddenly she was stung into action. They should see 
that she was no selfish, idle member of the family group. 
At least, she could be as brave as they were. She would 
go to work and make a difference in things before they 
came home. She would show them! 

She flew to the tumbled bed, and began to straighten 
the rumpled sheets and plump up the pillows. In a trice 
she had it smoothly made. But there was no white spread 
to put over it, and there were rolls of dust Under the 
bed and in the comers. The floor had not even a rug 
to cover its bareness. Worn shoes and soiled socles trailed 
about here and there, and several old garments hung on 
bedposts, drifted from chairs, and even lay on the floor. 
Cornelia went hastily about, gathering them up, sorting 
out the laundry, setting the shoes in an even row in the 
closet, straightening the bureau, and stuffing things into 
the already overflowing drawers, promising them an early 
clearing out as soon as she had the rest of the work in 
hand. Poor father! of course he was not used to keeping 
things in order. How a woman was missed in a house! 
She hadn't realized it before. The whole house looked 
as if the furniture had just been dumped in with no at¬ 
tempt to set things right, as her father had said. She 
must get the broom, and begin. 

She hurried out into the hall, and a glimpse of the 


40 


RE-CREATIONS 


narrow stairway winding above her drew her to investi¬ 
gate. And then a sudden thought. Carey. Where was 
Carey? Hadn’t he come home at all last night? She 
had no recollection of hearing him, and yet she might 
have fallen asleep earlier than she thought. She mounted 
the stairs, and stood aghast before the desolation there. 

The little closet Louise had spoken of with its skylight, 
and its meagre cot of twisted bedclothes, its chair with 
a medley of Harry’s clothes, and its floor strewn with a 
varied collection, was dreary enough; but there was 
yet some semblance of attempt at order. The muddy 
shoes stood in a row; some garments were in piles, and 
some hung on nails as if there had been an attempt at 
good housekeeping by the young owner. There was 
even a colored picture of a baseball favorite, and a dia¬ 
gram of a famous game. One could feel that the young 
occupant had taken possession with some sense of owner¬ 
ship in the place. But the front room was like a desert 
of destruction whereon lay bleaching the bones of a for¬ 
mer life as if swept there by a whirlwind. 

The headboard and footboard of the iron bedstead 
stood against the wall together like a corpse cast aside 
and unburied. On the floor in the very middle of the 
room lay the springs, and upon it the worn and soiled mat¬ 
tress, hardly recognizable by that name now because of 
the marks of heavy, muddy shoes, as if it had been not 
only slept upon but walked over with shoes straight from 
the contact of the street in bad weather. Sheets there 
were none, and the pillow soiled and with a hole burnt in 


RE-CREATIONS 


41 


one comer of its ticking lay guiltless of a pillow-case, 
with a beaten, sodden impression of a head in its centre. 
There was a snarl of soiled blanket and tom patchwork 
quilt across the foot, tossed to one side; and all about 
this excuse for a bed was strewn the most heterogeneous 
mass of objects that Cornelia had ever seen collected. 
Clothes soiled and just from the laundry, all in one mass, 
neckties tangled among books and letters, cheap magazines 
and parts of automobiles, a silk hat and a white even¬ 
ing vest keeping company with a pair of greasy overalls 
and two big iron wrenches; and over everything ciga¬ 
rette-stumps. 

The desolation was complete. The bureau had turned 
its back to the scene in despair, and was face to the wall, 
as it had been placed by the movers. It was then and 
not till then that Cornelia understood how recent had 
been the moving, and how utter the rout of the poor, pa¬ 
tient mother, whose wonderful housekeeping had always 
been the boast of the neighborhood where they had lived, 
and whose fastidiousness had been almost an obsession. ! 

Cornelia stood in the door, and gasped in horror as 
her eyes travelled from one corner of the room to another 
and back again, and her quick mind read the story of 
her brother’s life and one deep cause of her dear mother’s 
breakdown. She remembered her father’s words about 
Carey, and how he hoped she would be able to help him; 
and then her memory went back to the days when she 
and Carey had been inseparable. She saw the bright, 
eager face of her brother only two years younger than 


42 


RE-CREATIONS 


herself, always merry, with a jest on his lips and a twinkle 
in his eyes, but a kind heart and a willingness always to 
serve. Had Carey in three short years fallen to this ? Be¬ 
cause there was no excuse for an able-bodied young man 
to live in a mess like this. No young man with a mite of 
self-respect would do it. And Carey knew better. Carey 
had been brought up to take care of himself and his things. 
Nobody could mend a bit of furniture, or fix the plumbing, 
or sweep a room, or even wash out a blanket for mother, 
better than Carey when he was only fifteen. And for 
Carey as she knew him to be willing to lie down for at 
least more than one night in a room like this 
and go off in the morning leaving it this way, was simply 
unthinkable. How Carey must have changed to have come 
to this! As her eyes roved about the room, she began 
to have an insight into what must be the trouble. Self- 
indulgence of a violent type must have got hold of him. 
Look at the hundreds of cigarette-stumps, ashes every¬ 
where. The only saving thing was the touch of machinery 
in the otherwise hopeless mass; and that, too, meant only 
that he was crazy about automobiles, and likely fussed 
with them now and then to repair them so that he would 
have opportunity to ride as much as he liked. And Carey 
—where was Carey now ? 

She turned sadly away from the room, and shut the 
door. It was a work of time to think of getting that 
mess straightened out into any sort of order, and it made 
her heart-sick and hopeless. She must look farther and 
learn the whole story before she began to do anything. 


RE-CREATIONS 


43 


She stumbled blindly downstairs, only half glancing 
into the messy bathroom where soap and toothbrushes 
got standing room indiscriminately where they could; took 
a quick look into the small enclosure that Louise had de¬ 
scribed as a “linen-closet,” probably on account of a row 
of dirty-looking shelves at one end of the apartment; 
looked hesitatingly toward the door of her own room, 
wondering whether to stop there long enough to make the 
bed and tidy up, but shook her head and went on down¬ 
stairs. She must know the whole thing before she at¬ 
tempted to do anything. 

The stairs ascended at the back of the hall, with a 
cloak-closet under them now stuffed with old coats and 
hats belonging to the whole family. Opposite this closet 
the dining-room door opened. All the space in front was 
devoted to the large front room known as the “parlor.” 
Cornelia flung the door open wide, and stepped in. The 
blinds were closed, letting in only a slant ray of light 
from a broken slat over the desolation of half-unpacked 
boxes and barrels that prevailed. Evidently the children 
had mauled everything over in search of certain articles 
they needed, and had not put back or put away anything. 
Pictures and dishes and clothing lay about miscellaneously 
in a confused heap, and a single step into the room was 
liable to do damage, for one might step into a china meat- 
platter under an eider-down quilt, or knock over a cut- 
glass pitcher in the dark. Cornelia stopped, and rescued 
several of her mother’s best dishes from a row about the 
first barrel by the door, transferring them to the hall-rack 
before she dared go in to look around. 


44 


RE-CREATIONS 


The piano was still encased in burlap, standing with 
its keyboard to the wall, an emblem of the family’s deso¬ 
lation. As her eyes grew accustomed to the dim light, 
Cornelia gradually began to identify various familiar ob¬ 
jects. There were the old sofa and upholstered chairs 
that used to be in the nursery when Louise and Harry 
were mere babies. The springs were sagging and the 
tapestry faded. 

She searched in vain for the better suite of furniture 
that had been bought for the living room before she went 
to college. Where was it? It hadn’t been in the dining¬ 
room the night before, she was sure; and of course it 
couldn’t be in the kitchen. Could there be a shed at the 
back somewhere, with more things that were not as yet 
unpacked? With a growing fear she slipped behind some 
barrels, and tried to find the big bookcase with the glass 
doors, and the mahogany tables that mother had been 
so proud of because they had belonged to her great-grand¬ 
mother, and the claw-legged desk with the cabinet on the 
top. Not one of them was to be found. 

A horrible suspicion was dawning in her mind. She 
waited only to turn back the comers of several rolls of 
carpet and rugs, and make sure the Oriental rugs were 
missing, before she fled in a panic to the back of the house. 

Through the bare little kitchen she passed without 
even noticing how hard the children had worked to clear 
it up. Perhaps she would not have called it cleared up, 
her standard being on an entirely different scale from 
theirs. Yes, there was a door at the farther side. She 


RE-CREATIONS 


45 


tiung it open, and found the hoped-for shed, but no furni¬ 
ture. Its meagre space was choked with tubs and an old 
washing-machine, broken boxes and barrel-staves, a mar¬ 
ble table-top broken in two, and a rusty wash-boiler. With 
a shiver of conviction she stood and stared at them, and 
then slammed the door shut, and, flinging herself into a 
kitchen chair, burst into tears. 

She had not wept like that since she was a capable, 
controlled little girl; but the tears somehow cleared the 
cobwebs from her eyes and heart. She knew now that 
those beautiful things of her mother's were gone, and her 
strong suspicions were that she was the cause of it all. 
Some one else was enjoying them so that the money they 
brought could be used to keep her in college! And she 
had been blaming her father for not having managed 
somehow to let her stay longer! All these months, or 
perhaps years for aught she knew, he had been straining 
and striving to keep her from knowing how hard he and 
her dear mother were saving and scrimping to make her 
happy and give her the education she wanted; and she 
selfish, unloving girl that she was, had been painting, 
drawing, studying, directing class plays, making fudge, 
playing hockey, reading delightful books, attending won¬ 
derful lectures and concerts, studying beautiful pictures, 
and all the time growing farther and farther away from 
the dear people who were giving their lives—yes, literally 
giving their lives, for they couldn't have had much en¬ 
joyment in living at this rate—to make it all possible 
for her! 


46 


RE-CREATIONS 


Oh! she saw it all clearly enough now, and she hated 
herself for it. She began to go back over last night and 
how she had met them. She visualized their faces as they 
stood at the gate eagerly awaiting her; and she, little col¬ 
lege snob that she was, was ashamed to greet them eagerly 
because she was with a fine lady and her probably snobbish 
son. Her suddenly awakened instinct recalled the dis¬ 
appointed look on the tired father’s face and the sudden 
dulling of the merry twinkles of gladness in the children’s 
eyes. Oh! she could see it all now, and each new memory 
and conviction brought a stab of pain to her heart. Then, 
as if the old walls of the house took up the accusation 
against her, she began to hear over again the plaintive 
voices of Louise and Harry as they wiped the dishes and 
talked her over. It was all too plain that she had been 
weighed in the balances and found wanting. Something 
in the pitiful wistfulness of Harry’s voice as he had made 
that quick turn about interior decoration roused her at 
last to the present and her immediate duty. It was no 
use whatever to sit here and cry about it when such a 
mountain of work awaited her. The lady on the train 
had been right when she told her there would be plenty 
of chance for her talents. She had not dreamed of any 
such desolation as this, of course; but it was true that 
the opportunity, if one could look on it as an opportunity, 
was great, and she would see what she could do. At least 
things could be clean and tidy. And there should be 
waffles! That was a settled thing, waffles for the first meal. 
And she arose and looked about her with the spirit of 


RE-CREATIONS 47 

victory in her eyes and in the firm, sweet line of her 
quivering lips. 

What time was it, and what ought she to do first? 
She stepped to the dining-room door to consult the clock 
which she could hear ticking noisily from the mantel, and 
her eye caught her sister’s note written large across the 
comer of a paper bag. 

“Dear Nellie , I had to go to school. I’ll get back as 
soon after four as I can. You can heet the fride potatoes, 
and there are some eggs. 

Louie.” 

Suddenly the tears blurred into her eyes at thought of 
the little disappointed sister yet taking care for her in 
her absence. Dear little Louie! How hard it must have 
been for her! And she remembered the sigh she had 
heard from the kitchen a little while ago. Well, she was 
thankful she had been awakened right away and not al¬ 
lowed to go on in her selfish indifference. She glanced 
at the clock. It was a quarter to nine. She had lost a lot 
of time mooning over her own troubles. She had but 
seven hours in which to work wonders before any one 
returned. She must go to work at once. 


CHAPTER IV 


A hasty survey of the larder showed a scant supply 
of materials. There were flour and sugar and half a 
basket of potatoes. Some cans of tomatoes and corn, 
a paper bag of dried beans, another of rice, two eggs in 
a basin, and a dish of discouraged-looking fried potatoes 
with burnt edges completed the count. A small bit of 
butter on a plate and the end of a baker’s loaf of bread 
had evidently been left on the dining-room table for her. 
There were a good many things needed from the store, 
and she began to write them down on the other side of 
her sister’s note. A further investigation revealed half 
a bottle of milk that had soured. Cornelia’s face bright¬ 
ened. That would make a wonderful gingerbread, and 
she wrote down “Molasses, soda, brown sugar, baking- 
powder,” on her list. 

It wasn’t as if Cornelia hadn’t spent the first sixteen 
years of her life at home with her mother, for she knew 
how to cook and manage quite well before she went away 
to school; only of course she hadn’t done a thing at it 
since she left home, and like most girls she thought she 
hated the very idea of kitchen work. 

“Now, where do they buy things?” she wondered 
aloud to the clock as if it were alive. “I shall have to 
find out. I suppose if I take a basket and go far enough, 

I shall come to a store. If I don’t I can ask somebody.” 

48 


RE-CREATIONS 


49 


She ran upstairs, and got her hat and coat, and patted 
her pocketbook happily. At least she was not penniless, 
and did not have to wait until her father came home 
for what she wanted to get; for she had almost all of 
the last money her mother had sent before her illness. 
It had been sent for new spring clothes, and Cornelia had 
been so busy she had not had time to buy them. It sent 
a glad thrill through her heart now, strangely mingled 
with a pang at the things that she had planned and that 
now would not be hers. Yet, after all, the pang did not 
last; for already her mind was taken up with the new 
interests and needs of home, and she was genuinely glad 
that she had the money still unspent. 

Down the dull little street she sped, thinking of all 
she had to do in the house before the family came home, 
trying not to feel the desolation of the night before as .she 
passed the little commonplace houses and saw what kind 
of a neighborhood she had come to live in, trying not 
to realize that almost every house showed neglect or 
poverty of some kind. Well, what of it? If she did live 
in a neighborhood that was utterly uncongenial, she could 
at least make their little home more comfortable. She 
knew she could. She could feel the ability for it tingling 
to her very finger-tips, and she smiled as she hurried on 
to the next corner, where the gleam of a trolley track gave 
hint of a possible business street. She paused at the 
corner and looked each way, a pretty picture of girlhood, 
balancing daintily on her neat little feet and looking quite 
out of place in that neighborhood. Some of her new 

4 


50 


RE-CREATIONS 


neighbors eyed her from behind their Nottingnam lace 
curtains and their blue paper shades, and wondered unsym¬ 
pathetically where she came from and how she had strayed 
there, and a young matron in a dirty silver lace boudoir- 
cap with fluttering pink and blue ribbons came out with 
her market basket, and gave a cool, calculating stare, so 
far in another world that she did not mind being caught 
at it. 

The boudoir-cap was almost too much for Cornelia, 
bobbing about the fat, red face of the frowsy woman; 
but the market basket gave her a hint, and she gracefully 
fell in behind her fellow shopper, and presently arrived at 
a market. 

About this time Mrs. Knowlton and her son sat in the 
hotel dining-room downtown, eating their breakfast. A 
telegram had just been laid beside the son’s plate, and he 
looked up from reading it with a troubled brow. 

‘Tm afraid I’m going to have to upset our plans again,” 
he said. ‘Tm awfully sorry, mother; but Brown is com¬ 
ing on from Boston expecting to meet me at noon; and 
I guess there’s nothing to do but wait until the two 
o’clock train. Shall you mind very much?” 

“Not at all,” said his mother, smiling. “Why should 
I mind? I came on to be with you. Does it matter 
whether I’m in Philadelphia or Washington?” 

“Is there anything you would like to do this morning? 
Any shopping? Or would you like to drive about a bit?” 

She shook her head. 

“I can shop at home. I came here to be with you.” 


RE-CREATIONS 


51 


“Then let’s drive,” he decided with a loving smile. 
“Where would you like to go? Anything you want 
to see?” 

“No—or wait. Yes, there is. I’ve a fancy I’d like to 
drive past the house where that little girl I met on the 
train lives. I’d like to see exactly what she’s up against 
with her firm little chin and her clear, wise eyes and her 
artistic ways.” 

“At it again, aren’t you, mother? Always falling 
in love and chasing after your object. You’re worse than 
a young man in his teens”; and he smiled understanding^. 
“All right; we’ll hunt her up, mother; only we shan’t have 
much time to stop, for I have to be here sharp at twelve 
thirty. Do you know where she lives?” 

“Yes, I have her address here,” said his mother, search¬ 
ing in her silver bag for the card on which Cornelia had 
written it. “But I don’t want to stop. It wouldn’t do. 
She would think me intruding.” 

The young man took the address, and ordered a taxi¬ 
cab; and five minutes after Cornelia entered the door of 
her home with her arms full of bundles from market and 
grocery a taxicab crawled slowly by the house, and two 
pairs of eyes eagerly scanned the high, narrow, weather- 
stained building with its number over the front door the 
only really distinct thing about it. 

“The poor child!” murmured the lady. 

“Well, she sure is up against it!” growled the son, 
sitting back with an air of not looking, but taking it all 
in out of the tail end of his eye the way young men can do. 


RE-CREATIONS 


52 

“And she wants to be an interior decorator!” said 
the mother, turning from her last look out the little win¬ 
dow behind. 

“She’s got some task this time, I’ll say!” answered 
the son. “It may show up more promisingly from the 
interior, but I doubt it. And you say she’s been to college ? 
Dwight Hall, didn’t you say, where Dorothy Mayo gradu¬ 
ated ? Some come-down! It’s a hard world. Well, mother, 
I guess we’ve got to get back or I’ll miss my appoint¬ 
ment;” and he gave the chauffeur directions to turn about. 

More rapidly they passed this time, but the eyes of 
the woman took in all the details, the blank side wall where 
windows ought to have abounded, the shallow third story 
obviously with room for only one apartment, the lowly 
neighbors, the dirty, noisy children in the street. She 
thought of the girl’s lovely refined face, and sighed. 

“One might, of course, do a great deal of good in such 
a neighborhood. It is an opportunity,” she mur¬ 
mured thoughtfully. 

Her son looked amused. 

“I imagine she’ll confine her attention to the interior 
of her own home if she does anything at all. I’m afraid, 
if I came home from college to a place like that, I’d beat 
it, mother mine.” 

His mother looked up with a trusting smile. 

“You wouldn’t, though!” she said sunnily, and added 
thoughtfully: “And she won’t either. She had a true 
face. Sometime I’m coming back to see how it came out.” 

Meantime, Cornelia in the kitchen started the fire up 


RE-CREATIONS 


5S 

brightly, put on the tea-kettle, and began to concoct a soft 
gingerbread with the aid of the nice thick sour milk. When 
it was in the oven, she hunted out her mother’s old worn 
breadraiser, greased the squeaking handle with butter, 
and started some bread. She remembered how everybody 
in the family loved mother’s home-made bread; and, if 
there was one thing above another in which she 
had excelled as a little girl in the kitchen, it was in 
making bread. Somehow it did not seem as though 
things were on a right basis until she had some bread on 
the way. As she crumbled the yeast cake into a sauce 
dish and put it a-soak, she began to hum a little tune; yet 
her mind was so preoccupied with what she had to do 
that she scarcely remembered it was the theme of the 
music that ran all through the college play. College life 
had somehow receded for the present, and in place of 
costumes and drapery she was considering what she ought 
to make and bake in order to have the pantry and refrigera¬ 
tor well stocked, and how soon she might with a clear 
conscience go upstairs and start clearing up Carey’s bed¬ 
room. She couldn’t settle rightly to anything until that 
awful mess was straightened out. The consciousness 
of the disorder up there in the third story was like a 
bruise that had been given her, which made itself more 
and more felt as the minutes passed. 

When the cover was put down tight on the bread¬ 
raiser. Cornelia looked about her. 

“I really ought to clean this kitchen first,” she said 
thoughtfully, speaking aloud as if she and herself were 


54 


RE-CREATIONS 


having it out about the work. “There aren’t enough 
dishes unpacked for the family to eat comfortably, but 
there’s not room on those shelves for them if they 
were unpacked.” 

So, with a glance at the rapidly rising gingerbread 
that let out a whiff of delicious aroma, she mounted on a 
chair, and began to clear off the top shelves of the dresser. 
It seemed as if there had been no system whatever in plac¬ 
ing things. Bottles of shoe-blacking, a hammer, a box 
of gingersnaps, a can of putty, and several old neckties 
were settled in between glass sauce-dishes and the electric 
iron. She kept coming on little necessities. With small 
ceremony she swept them all down to an orderly row 
on the floor on the least-used side of the room, and with 
soap, hot water, and a scrubbing-brush went at the shelves. 
It didn’t take long, of course; but she put a great deal 
of energy into the work, and began to feel actually happy 
as she smelled the clean soap-suds, and beheld what a 
difference it made in the shabby, paintless shelves to get 
rid of the dirt. 

“Now, we’ve at least got a spot to put things!” she 
announced as she took the gingerbread-tins out of the 
oven, and with great satisfaction noted that she had not 
forgotten how to make gingerbread in the interval of 
her college days. 

The gingerbread reminded her that she had as yet had 
no breakfast, but she would not mar the velvet beauty 
of those fragrant loaves of gingerbread by cutting one 
now. She cut off a slice of the dry end of a loaf, and 


RE-CREATIONS 


55 


buttered it. She was surprised to find how good it 
tasted as she ate it going about her work, picking up what 
dishes on the floor belonged back on the shelves, washing 
and arranging them. Later, if there was time, she would 
unpack more dishes; but she must get up to Carey’s room. 
It was like leaving something dead about uncovered, to 
know that that room looked so above her head. 

It was twelve o’clock when she at last got permission 
of herself to go upstairs; and she carried with her broom, 
mop, soap, scrubbing-brush, and plenty of hot water and 
old cloths. She paused at the door of the front room 
long enough to rummage in the bureau drawers and get 
out an old all-over gingham apron of her mother’s, which 
she donned before ascending to the third floor. 

In the doorway of her brother’s room she stood ap¬ 
palled once more, scarcely knowing where to begin. Then, 
putting down her brushes and pails in the hall, she started 
in at the doorway, picking up the first things that came 
in her way. Clothes first. She sorted them out quickly, 
hanging the good things on the railing of the stairs, the 
worn and soiled ones in piles on the floor, ready for the 
laundry, the rag-man, and the mending-basket. When the 
garments were all out, she turned back; and the room 
seemed to be just as full and just as messy as it had been 
before. She began again, this time gleaning the news¬ 
papers and magazines. That made quite a hole in the 
floor space. Next she dragged the twisted bedclothes off 
the mattress, and threw them down the stairs. Somehow 
they must be washed or aired or duplicated before that 


56 


RE-CREATIONS 


bed would be fit to sleep in. After a thoughtful moment 
of looking over the banisters at them she descended, and 
carried them all to the little back yard, where she hung 
them on a short line that had been stretched from the 
fence to the house. They made a sorry sight, but she 
would have to leave them till later. The sun and air would 
help. There wasn't much sun, and there was still a sharp 
tang of rain in the air; it had been raining at intervals all 
the morning. Well, if it rained on them, they certainly 
needed it; and anyhow it was too late in the day for her 
to try to wash any of them. She must do the best she 
could this first day. 

Thus she reasoned as she frowningly surveyed the 
grimy blankets, her eyes lingering on a scorched place near 
the top of one. Suddenly her expression changed: '‘You've 
just got to be washed!" she said firmly, and snatching 
the blankets from the line, rushed in to arrange for large 
quantities of hot water, cleared off the stationary tubs, 
and dumped in the blankets, shaved up the only bar of 
soap she could find, and then went rummaging in the front 
room while the water was heating. Of course all this 
took strength, but she was not realizing how weary she 
was growing. Her mettle was up, and she was working 
on her nerve. It was a mercy with all she had before her 
that she was well and strong, and fresh from gymnasium 
and basketball training. It would take all her strength 
before she was done. 

She emerged from the parlor twenty minutes later 
triumphant, with a number of things that she was sure 


RE-CREATIONS 


57 


would be needed. , She went to work at the blankets with 
rigor, rubbing and pulling away at the scorched place 
until it was almost obliterated. Did Carey smoke in his 
sleep she wondered, or did he have guests that did? How 
dreadful that Carey had come to this, and she away at 
college improving herself and complacently expecting to 
make her mark in the world! 

The blankets were cleanly steaming on the line in half 
an hour more, and she glanced at the clock. A whole 
hour had gone, and she must hasten. She sped back up¬ 
stairs, and went to work again, dragging out the furniture 
to the hall, picking up books and magazines from the 
floor, till the room was stark and empty save for cigarette- 
stumps. She surveyed them in disgust, and then assailed 
the room with brushes, brooms, and mop. She threw 
the windows wide open, and swept the walls down vigor¬ 
ously. Before her onslaught dust and ashes disappeared, 
and even the dismal wall-paper took on a brighter hue. 

“It’s got to come off and be repapered or painted some 
pretty, soft, pastel shade,” she threatened in an under¬ 
tone to herself as she surveyed the room after soap and 
water had done their best on floor, wood-work, and win¬ 
dows. She was looking at the bleary wall-paper with 
a troubled frown. 

Of course she couldn’t do everything in a day, but 
Carey’s room must be clean and inviting before she would 
be satisfied. No wonder he stayed out late nights, or 
didn’t come home at all, perhaps, with such a room as that. 
There ought to be more windows, too. What a pity the 


58 


RE-CREATIONS 


builder had been so stingy with them! It was a dark, ugly 
hole; and there was no need for it, for the room occupied 
the whole end, and could have had openings on three sides 
and been delightful. 

Suddenly she began to feel a great weariness stealing 
over her, and tears coming into her eyes. She was over¬ 
whelmed with all that was before her. She sat down on 
the upper stair, and looked about her discouragedly. All 
these things to be put somewhere! And time going so 
fast! Then she remembered her bread, and with an ex¬ 
clamation rushed down to put it into the pans. 

It had risen almost to the top of the breadraiser, 
and with a mental apology for her forgetfulness she has¬ 
tened to mold it out into loaves and put it into the greased 
tins. When it was neatly tucked up under a bit of old 
linen, she had found in the sideboard drawer, she began 
to prepare the meat for dinner and put it on to cook, a 
beautiful big pot-roast. She deftly seared it with an onion 
in a hot frying-pan, and put it to simmer in boiling water 
with the rinsings of the browned pan, being careful to 
recall all her mother’s early instruction on the subject. 
She could remember that pot-roast was always a favorite 
dish at home, and she herself had been longing for a 
taste of real home-cooked pot-roast ever since she had 
been away. 

She fixed the fire carefully so that the meat would 
simmer just enough, and not boil too hard and make it 
tough, and gave a despairing glance at the clock. How 
fast the minutes flew! She ought to go back upstairs, 


RE-CREATIONS 


59 


but it was a quarter to three, and she wanted to get the 
table set for dinner before she left, so that the dining¬ 
room would have a pleasant look to the children when 
they came home. She was quite breathless and excited 
over their coming. She felt as if she would be almost 
embarrassed before them after the conversation she had 
overheard in the morning. 

So she attacked the dining-room with broom and dus¬ 
ter, wiped off the window-panes, and straightened the 
shade, swept away a mass of miscellaneous articles from 
the clock-shelf, cleared off the sideboard, hunted out a clean 
old linen cover, polished the mirror, and found a clean 
tablecloth. But the tablecloth had a great hole in it, 
and fifteen valuable minutes were wasted in finding a 
patch and setting it hastily in place with a needle and 
thread that also had to be hunted for. Then some of 
the dishes had to be washed before they were fit for use, 
as they were covered with dust from packing; and all 
together it was five minutes to four before Cornelia finally 
had that table set to her satisfaction, and could stand back 
for a brief minute and take it in with tired but shining 
eyes. Would they notice the difference and be a little 
glad that she had come? They had taken her for a lazy 
snob in the morning. Would they feel any better about 
it now ? 

And the table did look pretty. It was set as a table 
should be set, with dishes and glasses and silver in the 
correct places, and napkins neatly folded; and in the centre 
was a small pot of pink primroses in full bloom. For it 


60 RE-CREATIONS 

would not have been Cornelia if there had not been a bit 
of decoration about somewhere, and it was like Cornelia 
when she went out to market, and thought of meat and 
bread and milk and butter and all the other necessities, to 
think also of that bit of brightness and refinement, and 
go into a small flower-shop she was passing to get this 
pretty primrose. 

Then in panic the weary big sister brought out one 
loaf of gingerbread, cut several generous slices, left 
it on the sideboard in a welcome attitude, and fled up¬ 
stairs to finish Carey’s room. 

Five minutes later, as she was struggling with the 
bedsprings trying to bring them into conjunction with 
the headboard, she heard their hurrying feet, and, leaning 
from the window, called: 

“Children! Come up here a minute, and help me.” 

“I can’t,” shouted Harry with a frown; “I got a job 
afternoons, and I gotta hustle. I’m late a’ready, and I 
have to change my clo’es!” and he vanished inside the door. 

“I have to go to the store for things for dinner!” re¬ 
proved the younger sister stiffly, and vanished also, 

Cornelia felt suddenly in her weariness like sitting 
down on the floor in a fit of hysterical laughter or tears. 
Would they never forgive her? She dropped on the floor 
with her head wearily back against the window and closed 
her eyes. She had meant to tell them about the ginger¬ 
bread, but they had been in such a hurry; and somehow 
the spirit seemed gone out of her surprise. 


RE-CREATIONS 


61 


Downstairs it was very still. The children had been 
halted at the entrance by the appetizing odor of cooking. 

“Sniff!” 

“Oh, gee!” said Harry. “It smells like mother was 
home.” 

Louise stalked hurriedly to the dining-room door. 

“Harry Copley, just look here! Now, what did I 
tell you about college girls?” 

Harry came and stood entranced. 

“Oh, gee!” he murmured. “Isn’t that just great ? Oh, 
say, Lou Copley, just gaze on that sideboard! I’ll tell 
the world this is some day!” and he strode to the sideboard, 
and stopped all further speech by more than a mouthful 
of the fragrant ginger-cake. 

The little housewife took swift steps to the kitchen 
door, and sniffed. She took in the row of plump bread- 
tins almost ready to go into the oven, the gently bubbling 
kettle with its fragrant steam, the shining dresser with 
its neat rows of dishes that she had never been able to 
find; and then she whirled on her astonished brother. 

“Harry Copley! You answered her real mean! You 
go upstairs and apologize quick! And then you beat it, 
and change your clothes, and get to work. I’ll help her. 
We’re going to work together after this, she and I”; and, 
seizing a large slice of gingerbread in her passing, she 
flew up the stairs to find her sister. 


CHAPTER V 


They appeared in the doorway suddenly after a sound 
like locomotives rushing up the stairs, and surrounded her 
where she sat after one astonished pause at the doorway, 
staring around the unfamiliar apartment. They smothered 
her with hugs and kisses, and demanded to know how 
she got so much done, and what she wanted of them 
anyway; and they smeared her with gingerbread, and 
made her glad; and then as suddenly Harry disappeared 
with the floating explanation trailing back after him: 

“Oh, gee! I gotta beat it.” 

A few rustling movements in his own little closet of 
a room, and he was back attired in an old Boy Scout uni¬ 
form, and cramming down the last bite of his gingerbread. 

“Anything I can do before I go? Oh, here!” as he 
saw his sisters about to put the bed together. “That 
won’t take a second! Say, you girls don’t know how to 
do that. Lemme.” 

And, surprising to state, he pushed them aside, and 
whacked the bed together in no time, slatted on the mat¬ 
tress with his sturdy young arms and was gone down 
through the dining-room and out into the street with 
another huge slice of gingerbread in his hands. 

Cornelia straightened her tired shoulders, and looked 
at the subdued bed wonderingly. How handily he had 
done it! How strong he was! It was amazing. 

Louise stood looking about with shining eyes. 

“Say, Nellie, it looks lovely here, so clean and nice. 

02 


RE-CREATIONS 


I never thought it could be done, it looked so awful! I 
wanted to do something, and I know mother felt fierce 
about not fixing his room before she left; but I just 
couldn’t get time.” 

“Of course you couldn’t, dear!” said Cornelia, sud^ 
denly realizing how wise and brave this little sister had 
been. “You’ve been wonderful to do anything. Why 
didn’t they send for me before, Louie? Tell me, how 
long had you been in this house before mother was 
taken sick?” 

“Why, only a day. She fainted, you know, trying to 
carry that marble bureau-top upstairs, and fell down.” 

“Oh! My dear!” 

The two sisters stood with their arms about each 
other, mingling their tears for a moment; and somehow, 
as she stood there, Cornelia felt as if the years melted 
away, the college years while she had been absent, and 
brought her back heart and soul to her home and her 
loved ones again. 

“But Louie, dear, what has become of the best furni¬ 
ture? Did they have to rent the old house furnished? 
I can’t find mother’s mahogany, or the parlor things, any¬ 
thing but the piano.” 

1 The color rolled up into the little girl’s face, and she 
dropped her eyes. “Oh, no, Nellie; they went long ago,” 
she said, “before we even moved to the State Street house.” 

“The State Street house?” 

“Why, yes, father sold the Glenside house just after 
you went to college. You knew that, didn’t you? And 
then we moved to an old yellow house down farther to- 


64 


RE-CREATIONS 


ward the city. But it was pulled down to make room for 
a factory; and I was glad, for it was horrid, and a long 
walk to school. And then we went to a brick row down 
near the factory, and it was convenient for father, but—” 

“Factory? Father? What do you mean, dear? Has 
father gone into business for himself? He was a book¬ 
keeper at Dudley and Warner’s when I left.” 

“Oh, but he lost that a long, long time ago, after 
he was sick so long.” 

“Father sick? Louie! And I not told?” 

“Why, I didn’t know they hadn’t told you. Maybe 
mother wouldn’t like it-” 

“Tell me everything, dear. How long was father 
sick?” 

“About a year. He lost his position, and then wasn’t 
able to do anything for ever so long; and, when he got 
out of the hospital, he hunted and hunted, and there 
wasn’t anything for him. He got one good job; but they 
said he had to dress better, and he lost that.” 

Cornelia sank down on the floor again, and buried her 
face in her hands. 

“O Louie! And I was wearing nice clothes, and doing 
nothing to help! Oh, why didn’t mother let me know ?” 

“Oh, mother kept saying she thought she could manage 
and it was father’s dream you should get your educa¬ 
tion,” quoted the little girl with dreamy eyes and the mem¬ 
ory of many sacrifices sweetly upon her. 

“Go on, Louie; what next ?” 

“Oh, nothing much. Mother sold the furniture to 


RE-CREATIONS 


65 


an ‘antique’ woman that was hunting old things; and that 
paid for father’s medicine, and they said they wouldn’t 
touch the money they had put in the bank for your col¬ 
lege; and then father go: the place at the factory. It’s 
kind of hard work, I guess; but it’s good pay, and 
father thought he’d manage to let you finish; only mother 
gave out, and then everything went to pieces.” 

The small, red lips puckered bravely, and suddenly 
the child threw her arms around her sister’s neck, and cried 
out, sobbing, “Oh, I’m so glad you’ve come!” and Cornelia 
wrapped her close to her heart. 

Into the midst of this touching scene there stole a 
sweetly pungent odor of meat boiling dry, and suddenly 
Cornelia and Louise smelled it at the same instant, and 
flew for the stairs. 

“I guess it’s not really burned yet,” said wise Louise. 
“It doesn’t smell that way,” comfortingly. “My, it makes 
me hungry!” 

“And oh, my bread!” exclaimed Cornelia as she 
rounded the top of the next flight. “It ought to go into 
the oven. It will get too light.” They rescued the meat 
not at all hurt but just lusciously browned and most appe¬ 
tizing; and then they put the bread into the oven and 
turned their attention to potatoes and waffles. 

“I’m going to make some maple-syrup,” said Cornelia; 
“it’s better home-made. I bought a bottle of mapleine 
this morning. We used to make maple fudge with it, 
and it’s good.” 


66 


RE-CREATIONS 


“Isn't this great?” exclaimed the little girl, watching 
the bubbling sugar and water. “Won’t father be glad?” 

“But, Louie, where is Carey?” asked Cornelia sud¬ 
denly. 

The little girl’s face grew dark. 

“He’s off!” she said shortly. “I guess he didn’t come 
home at all last night. Father worries a lot about him, 
and mother did too; but he’s been worse since mother 
was sick. He hardly ever comes in till after midnight, 
and then he smokes and smokes. Oh, it makes me sick! 
I told Harry if he grew up that way I’d never speak to 
him. And Harry says, if he ever does, he gives me leave 
to turn him down. Oh, Carey acts like a nut! I don’t 
see how he can, when he knows how father has to work, 
and everything. He just won’t get a position anywhere. 
He wants to have a good time. He plays ball, and he 
rides around in a rich fellow’s car, and he has a girl! Oh, 
he’s the limit.” 

Cornelia felt her heart sinking. 

“What kind of a girl, Louie?” 

“Oh, a girl with flour on her face, and an awful tight 
skirt; and when she goes out evenings, she wears her 
back bare way down almost to her waist. I saw her in 
a concert at our church, and she was dressed that way 
there; and folks were all looking at her, and saying it 
wasn’t nice. She dances, too, and kicks, with lots of skirts 
and ruffles and things, made of chiffon; and she makes 
eyes at boys; and I know a girl at school that says she 
saw her smoking cigarettes at a restaurant once. You 


RE-CREATIONS G7 

see it isn’t much use to fix up Carey’s room when he 
does things like that. He doesn’t deserve it.” 

Cornelia looked aghast. 

“Oh, but we must, Louie! We must all the more 
then. And perhaps the girl isn’t so bad if we knew her, 
and—and tried to help her. Some girls are awfully silly 
at a certain age, dear.” 

“Well, you oughtta see her. Harry knows, and he 
thinks she’s the limit. He says the boys all talk about 
her. She paints her face, too, and wears big black ear¬ 
rings down on her shoulders sometimes, and she wears 
her hair just like the pictures of the devil!” 

Cornelia had to laugh at the earnest, fierce little face; 
and the laugh broke the tension somewhat. 

“Well, dearie, we’ll have to find a way to coax Carey 
back to us,” she said soothingly, even while her heart 
was sinking. “He’s our brother, you know; and we love 
him, and it would break mother’s heart.” 

“Oh, I know,” sighed the little girl. “I’ve tried to 
think of something; but we’re so poor, and this house is 
dreadful. Of course, it’s a lot better than State Street, 
though,” she said, brightening. 

“It is?” Cornelia’s voice conveyed dismay. 

“Oh yes,” said Louise, not noticing her sister’s face. 
“We hadn’t any side windows at all there; the houses 
were close up, and there were very unpleasant people all 
around. It wasn’t at all a good neighborhood. Carey 
hated it. He wouldn’t come home for days and days. 
He said it wasn’t fit for pigs.” 


RE-CREATIONS 


‘"Where did he go? Where has he gone now, do 
you suppose ?” 

“Oh, off with the boys somewhere. Sometimes to 
their houses. Sometimes they take trips around. One 
of them has a car. His father’s rich. But I don’t like 
him. His name’s Brand Barlock. He drives wherever 
he likes. They went to Washington once, and were gone 
a week. Mother never slept a wink those nights, just 
sat at the front window and watched after we went to 
bed. I know, for I woke up and found her so several 
times. He might av gone to Baltimore now. There’s 
a game down that way sometime soon. I guess it was 
last night. Harry heard ’em talking about it. They go 
with the gang of fellows that used to play on our high 
school team when Carey was in school.” 

“School?” Cornelia caught at the word hopefully. 
“Perhaps it’s only fun, then, Louie. Maybe, it’s nothing 
really bad.” 

“No. They’re pretty tough,” sighed the wise child. 
“Harry knows. He hears the boys talk.” 

“Well, dear, we’ll have to forget it now, anyway, and 
get to work. We must fix Carey’s room so he can sleep 
there tonight if he does come back, and we must have 
supper ready when father gets home.” 

The child brightened. “Won’t they be surprised?” 
she said with a happy light in her eyes. “What do you 
want me to do? Shall I peel the potatoes?” 

“Yes, do, and have plenty. We’ll mash them, shall 
we? I found the potato-masher in the bottom of a bar- 


RE-CREATIONS m 

re! in the parlor; so I don’t believe you’ve been using 
it Lately.” 

“That’s right. We had all we could do to bake them 
or boil them whole,” said Louise. “You bake the bread, 
and I’ll get the potatoes on. Then we’ll have plenty of 
time to put those things away upstairs and make 
Carey’s bed.” 

“Are there any clean sheets? I didn’t know where 
to look.” 

“No, there’s only one pair, and I kept them for you 
next week.” 

“We can’t keep anything for me, duckie dear,” said 
Cornelia, laughing. “Carey’s got to have clean sheets 
this very night. I have a hunch he’s coming home, and 
I want that room to be ready. That’s the first step in 
getting him back to us, you know.” 

“Oh, well, all right,” said the little sister. “They are 
in the lower drawer of our bureau. How good that bread 
smells! My, it was nice of you to make it! And how 
dear the dining-table looks with that little flower in the 
middle. Some girls’ sisters would have thought that 
was unnecessary. They would have made us wait for 
pretty things. But you didn’t, did you? I guess that’s 
what makes you an interior decorator, isn't it? Father 
and mother are awfully proud of you. They talked about 
it most every night before Carey got to going away, how 
you would be a great artist some day, and all that; and 
my! it most killed them to have to call you home.” 

Louise chattered on, revealing many a household 


RE-CREATIONS 


n 

tragedy, until Cornelia was cut to the heart and wanted 
to drop down and cry; only she had too much at stake 
to give up now. 

They went upstairs presently with the clean sheets, 
and the blankets that had almost miraculously got them¬ 
selves dry owing to a bright sun and a strong west wind 
that had arrived soon after they were put out; and they 
had a beautiful time making that bed. Carey wouldn’t 
know himself in such a bed. Then they hunted out a 
bureau-scarf, and they went through the tousled drawers 
of the chiffonier and bureau, and put things to rights, 
laying out a pile of things that needed mending or wash¬ 
ing, and making the room look cheery and bright. 

“It ought to have something pretty like a flower here, 
too,” sighed Louise, taking a final glance around as 
Cornelia folded the old eider-down quilt in a self- 
respecting puff at the foot of the bed, and gave another 
pat to the clean white pillow. “I know!” said Louise 
suddenly flitting downstairs to her own room and hurry¬ 
ing back again with a small oval easel picture of her 
mother, dusting it carefully with her handkerchief as she 
came. “There! Won’t that look better?’’ 

“Indeed it will,” said her sister, her eyes filling with 
tears as she looked into the loving eyes of the dear mother 
from whom she had been separated so long; “and per¬ 
haps it will do Carey good to look into his mother’s eyes 
when he comes home; who knows ?” 

So they went down together to put the finishing touches 
to the supper and to talk of many things. Louise even 


RE-CREATIONS 


71 


got around to the play and the costume she was going to 
try to make; and Cornelia delighted her heart by saying 
she was sure she had just the very costume in her trunk, 
one that she wore in a college play herself, and she would 
help her make it over to fit. 

Everything was ready for supper at last, and it was 
time within three minutes for father’s car to arrive. Harry 
would likely meet him at the corner and come with him. 
Cornelia was taking up the pot-roast, and telling Louise 
about beating the mashed potatoes to make them lighter. 
The waffle-iron had been found under the piano-stool in 
the parlor, and was sizzling hot and well greased await¬ 
ing the fluffy batter. The hot maple syrup was on the 
table and everything exactly ready. Suddenly they heard 
a noisy automobile thunder up to the front of the house 
and pause, a clatter of voices, and the car thundered on 
again. Footsteps up the walk, and the front door banged 
open and shut; feet stamped up the stairs, while a faint 
breath of cigarette smoke trailed out and penetrated 
into the kitchen to mingle with the fragrance of the 
dinner. The two cooks stopped, and looked at each 
other understanding^. 

“He’s come,” said the eyes of the little sister. 

“We must make him very welcome,” answered the 
eyes of the big sister, so tired she could hardly hold her 
young shoulders straight. 

“Maybe he won’t stay,” whispered Louise softly a min¬ 
ute later. “Sometimes he doesn’t; he might have a date.” 

“Here’s hoping,” said Cornelia gayly, as she dabbed 


n RE-CREATIONS 

the batter into the irons for the first waffle. “You’ll have 
to contrive to catch him if he tries to go away, Lou.” 

“I wonder what he thinks of his room,” giggled the 
little sister. “I guess maybe he thought he’d made a mis¬ 
take and got into the wrong house.” 

It was all very still upstairs. There were not even 
any footsteps going around, not for what seemed like 
several minutes; then slowly the footsteps came down the 
stairs again, hesitating, paused at the second flight, and 
came on until they reached the open dining-room door. 

Carey stood there gazing at the table as Louise came 
in bearing the dish of potatoes, and Cornelia followed 
her with the platter of meat, both earnestly intent and 
flushed with their work; and just at that moment, before 
the girls had looked up, the front door opened, and in 
came the father, with Harry whistling gayly behind him. 

“Oh, gee!” he cried, stopping his whistling. “Don’t 
that supper smell good? Here’s hoping there’s plenty 
of it.” 

It was at that instant that Cornelia looked up, and 
her eyes met the eyes of her handsome, reckless-looking 
brother, astonishment, bewilderment, shame, delight, and 
embarrassment struggling in his face. 


CHAPTER VI 


“Nell!” 

There was genuine delight in the boy’s tone as he 
came forward to greet her, shyly, perhaps, and with a 
bit of shamed hesitancy because he could not but remem¬ 
ber that the family had probably told her all about him, and 
she would of course disapprove of him as much as they did. 

But Cornelia, with the steaming gravy-boat in one 
hand and a pile of hot plates in the other, turned a warm, 
rosy cheek up to him, her eyes still intent on putting down 
the dishes without spilling the treacherous gray} 7- on the 
clean tablecloth. 

“It’s great to see you again, Carey,” she said heartily, 
trying to make the situation as casual as possible. “Sorry 
to seem brief; but I have something luscious on the stove, 
and I’m afraid it’ll burn. Sit down quick, won’t you?—* 
and be ready to eat it while it’s hot. We’ll talk afterward. 
I want to have a good look at you and see if you’ve grown 
more than I have.” 

Her voice trailed off into the kitchen cheerily, and not 
in the least as though she had been palpitating between 
hope and fear about him all the afternoon and working 
herself to a frazzle getting his room ready. 

She returned almost immediately with the first plate 
of golden-brown waffles, and stole a furtive glance at him 
from the kitchen doorway. He had not yet seated him¬ 
self, although the others were bustling joyously and noisily 

73 


74 


RE-CREATIONS 


into their chairs. He was still standing thoughtfully, 
staring around the dining-room and at the table. As 
she approached, he gave her a furtive, sweeping look, then 
dropped his lashes and slid into his chair, a half-frown 
beginning to grow on his brow. He looked as if he were 
expecting the next question to be : “Why weren’t you here 
last night ? Where were you ? Don’t you know you were 
rude?” but none of those questions were voiced. His 
father did clear his throat and glance up at him gravely; 
but Louise with quick instinct began to chatter about the 
syrup that Cornelia had made. His attention was turned 
aside, and the tense expression of his face relaxed as he 
looked about the pleasant table and noticed the happy faces. 

“It hasn’t looked this way since your mother went 
away,” said the father with a deep sigh. “How good that 
bread looks! Real home-made bread again! What a 
difference that makes!” and he reached out, and took a 
slice as if it were something merely to look at and feel. 

“I’ll say! That looks rare!” Carey volunteered, tak¬ 
ing a slice himself and passing the plate. “Some smell, 
this dinner, what?” he added, drawing in a long, deep 
breath. “Seems like living again.” 

His father’s tired eyes rested on him sadly, contem¬ 
platively. He opened his lips to speak; but Cornelia slid 
into her chair, and said, “Now, father, we’re ready”; and 
he bowed his head and murmured a low, sad little grace. 
So Carey was saved again from a much-deserved reproof. 
Cornelia couldn’t help being glad; and Louise looked at 
her with a knowing gleam in her eye as she raised her 
head, and broke into a brilliant smile. Louise had bitter 


RE-CREATIONS' 


75 


knowledge of what it meant to have Carey reproved at 
a meal. There was always a scene, ending with no Carey. 

“Yes, and,” began Louise swiftly as soon as the 
“Amen” was concluded, “there’s waffles and gingerbread! 
Think of that! And Nellie had time to fix up your 
bedroom, Kay. Did you go up there?” 

“I should say I did! Nell, you’re a peach! I never 
meant to have it looking that way when you came home. 
I sure am ashamed you had to dig that stuff all out. Some 
junk I had there. I meant to take a day off and clean house 
pretty soon.” 

“Well, now you can help me with some of the other 
rooms, instead,” his sister replied, smiling, and hastened 
back to turn her waffles. 

“I sure will!” said Carey heartily. “When do you 
want me? To-morrow morning? Nothing in the way 
of my working all day if you say the word. We used 
to make a pretty good team, Nell, you and I. Think we 
could accomplish a lot in a day.” 

“Yes, Carey hasn’t any job to hinder him doing what 
he pleases,” put in Harry with a bitter young sneer. “I’d 
uv had it all done by myself long ago if I hadn’t had a 
job after school!” 

“Yes, you young brag!” began Carey with a deep 
scowl. “You think you’re it and then some 1” 

“It would seem as if you might have given a little 
time, Carey,” began his father almost petulantly, with 
a look about his mouth of restraining less mild things 
that he might have said. 

Louise looked apprehensively at her sister. 


76 


HE-CREATIONS^ 


“Oh, well,” put in Cornelia quickly, “you couldn't be 
expected to know what to do, any of you, till your big 
sister got home. You've all done wonderfully well, I 
think, to get as much done as you have; and I only blame 
you, everyone of you, especially father dear, for not send¬ 
ing for me sooner. It was really—well, criminal, you 
know, Daddy, to keep me in expensive luxury and ignor¬ 
ance that way. But I'm not going to scold you here be¬ 
fore folks. We’ll have that out after they’ve all gone 
to bed, won’t we ? We’re going to have nothing but pleas¬ 
ant sayings at this supper table. It’s a kind of reunion, 
you know, after so many years. Just think; we haven’t 
all been together for—how long is it?—four years? 
Doesn’t that seem really awful? When I think of it, I 
realize how terribly selfish I have been. I didn’t realize 
it in college because I was having such a good time, but 
I have been selfish and lazy and absolutely thoughtless. I 
hope you’ll all forgive me.” 

Carey lifted wondering eyes, and his scowl faded while 
he studied his pretty sister’s guileless face thoughtfully. 
The attention was diverted from him, and his anger was 
cooling; but somehow he began to feel deep in his soul 
that it was really he that had been selfish. All their scold¬ 
ing and nagging hadn’t made him in the least conscious 
©f it; but this new, old, dear, pretty sister taking the blame 
on herself seemed to throw a new light on his own doings. 
Of course it was merely momentary, and made no very 
deep impression; but still the idea had come, and would 
never be quite driven away again. 


RE-CREATION S 


77 

The supper was a success from every point of view. 
The pot-roast was as tender as cheese; the mashed potatoes 
melted under the gravy like snow before the summer 
sun, and were enjoyed with audible praise; and the waffles 
sizzled and baked and disappeared, and more took their 
places, until at last the batter was all gone. 

‘‘Well, I couldn’t hold another one,” said Carey, “but 
they certainly were jim-dandies. Say, you haven’t for¬ 
gotten how to cook, Nell!” and he cast a look of deep 
admiration toward his sister. 

Cornelia, so tired she could hardly get up out of her 
chair after she dropped into it, lifted a bravely smiling 
face, and realized that she had scored a point. Carey 
had liked the supper and was over his grouch. The first 
night had been ushered in greatly. She was just wonder¬ 
ing whether she dared suggest that he help wash the dishes 
when he suddenly jerked out his watch, glanced at it, and 
shoved his chair back noisily. 

“Gee! I’ve gotta beat it,” he said hurriedly as he 
strode to the hall door. “I’ve gotta date!” and before 
the family had drawn the one quick, startled, aghast breath 
of disappointment and tried to think of some way to detain 
him, or find out where he was going, or when he was com¬ 
ing back, he had slammed the front door behind him. 

The father had an ashen-gray, helpless look; Louise’s 
mouth drooped at the corners, and there were tears in her 
eyes as she held up her head bravely and carried a pile 
of plates out to the kitchen, while Harry with an ugly 
sneer on his young lips shoved his chair back, noisily mur- 


78 


EE-CREATIONS 


muring: “Aw, gee! Gotta date! Always gotta date! 
When I grow up, I’ll see if I always have to have a date!” 
Then he snatched an armful of dishes, and strode to the 
kitchen, grumbling in an undertone all the way. 

Cornelia cast a quick, apprehensive look at her father, 
and said cheerily: 

“Oh, never mind. Of course young men have dates; 
and when you’ve promised, you know it isn’t easy to 
change. Come, let’s get these dishes out of the way 
quickly; and then we can sit down and talk. It’s great 
to all be together again, isn’t it? Father, dear, how long 
do you suppose it will be before mother is well? Have 
you had a letter today?” 

The father beamed at her again, and, putting his hand 
in his pocket, drew out an official-looking envelope. 

“Yes,” he said wistfully; “that is, a note from the 
nurse with the report. Of course she is not allowed to 
write. She just sends her love, that’s all, and says she’s 
getting well as fast as possible. She seems to be 
gaining a little. Here’s the report.” 

They all gathered around it, studying the little white, 
mysterious paper that was to tell them how the dear 
mother was getting on, and then turned away little wiser. 
Suddenly Harry, noticing the sag of Cornelia’s shoulder 
as she stood holding on to the back of her father’s chair, 
turned with a swift motion, and gathered her into his 
strong young arms like a bear. Before she could protest 
he bore her over to the old, humpy couch, where he de¬ 
posited her with a gruff gentleness. 

“There you are!” he puffed commandingly. “You 


RECREATIONS 


79 


lie there, and Lou and I will do the dishes. You’re all 
in, and you don’t know enough to know it.” 

“Nonsense!” said Cornelia, laughing and trying to 
rise. “I’m used to playing basketball and hockey, and 
doing all sorts of stunts. It won’t hurt me to get a little 
tired. I’m going to wash those dishes, and you can 
wipe them.” 

“No, you’re not. I say she’s not, Lou, is she?” and 
he held her down with his rough young force. 

“Certainly not,” said Louise grown-uply appearing 
with her hands full of knives and forks. “It’s our turn 
now. She thinks we don’t know how to wash dishes. 
Harry Copley, you just oughtta see all she’s done all by 
herself upstairs, cleaning Carey’s room, and washing blan¬ 
kets, and all, besides making bread and gingerbread and 
everything. Come on upstairs and see. No, we won’t 
go yet till the dishes are done. ’Cause Nellie would work 
while we were gone. Daddy, you just sit there and talk 
to her, and don’t let her get up while we clean up. Then 
we’ll take you upstairs.” 

So Cornelia lay still at last on the lumpy couch, and 
rested, realizing that she was “all in,” and feeling well 
repaid for her hard work by the loving light in the chil¬ 
dren’s eyes and her father’s tender glance. 

The thought of Carey hung in the back of her mind, 
and troubled her now and then; but she remembered that 
he had promised to help her in the morning, and some¬ 
how that comforted her. She succeeded in keeping the 
rest of the family so interested in her tales of college life 
that they did not remember their troubles. 


80 


RE-CREATIONS 


When the dishes were done, Cornelia told Louise how 
to set some buckwheat cakes for morning. 

“I saw they were selling buckwheat cheap in the store/ 
she explained; “and so I got some. It will soon be too 
warm to eat buckwheat cakes, and I’m just crazy to taste 
them again. I haven’t had a decent one since I left home.” 

“Carey just loves ’em,” said Louise thoughtfully. 

“Aw, he won’t get up in time to get any,” sneered 
Harry. 

“He might if he knew we were going to have ’em,” 
said Louise. 

“Let’s write him a note, and leave it up on his bureau/’ 
said Cornelia brightly. “That'll be fun. Let’s make 
it in poetry. Where’s a pencil and a big piece of paper?” 

“I’ve got some colored crayons,” suggested Harry. 

So Cornelia scribbled a minute, and produced the fol¬ 
lowing, which Harry proudly copied in large illuminated' 
letters on a piece of wrapping paper: 

“The Copleys’ breakfast’s buckwheat cakes, 

With maple syrup too; 

They’re light and tender, sweet and brown. 

The kind you needn’t chew. 

So, Carey, rise at early dawn, 

And put your vesture on, 

And come to breakfast in good time, 

Or they will all be gone!” 

Louise danced up and down as she read it. 

“O Nellie, Nellie, that’s real poetry!” she declared, 
*and aren’t we having a good time ?” 


RE-CREATIONS 


81 


*T should say we were!” declared Harry, beginning 
to make a large flourishing capital T with green and 
brown crayons. “Talk about dates!” contemptuously. 
“If a fella has got a good home, he oughtta stay in it!” 

“O Nellie, it’s so good to have you home!” sighed 
Louise suddenly snuggling down into her sister’s tired 
arms. “I’m so glad your college is done!” 

And all at once Cornelia realized that she too was 
glad. Here had she been nearly all this afternoon and 
evening, having a first-rate, beautiful time getting tired 
with hard work, but enjoying it just as much as if she 
had been working over the junior play. It came to her 
with a sudden start that just at this hour they were having 
one of the almost last rehearsals—without her! For a 
second it gave her a pang, and then she realized that she 
really and truly was just as much interested in getting 
Carey’s room fixed up, and making a cheerful, beautiful 
living room some day for the family to gather in, and 
having good times to win back Carey, as ever she had 
been in making costumes for the girls and making the 
play a success by means of her delightful scenery. For 
was she not, after all, about to plan the scenery for the 
play of life in the Copley family? Who should say 
but there would be as much tragedy and comedy and ro¬ 
mance in the Copley play as ever there had been at Dwight 
Hall ? Well, time would tell, and somehow the last twenty- 
four hours had put her on a different plane, and enabled 
her to look down at her college life from a new angle. 
What had done it? Her knowledge of how her father 
6 


82 


RE-CREATION S 


and mother had struggled and sacrificed? The dearness 
of her young brother and sister in their sturdy, honest 
desire to be helpful and to love her and look up to her? 
Or was it her longing to hold and help the young brother 
who had been her chum and companion in the days before 
she had gone to college? At least, she could truly say 
in her heart that she was glad she was here tonight, and 
she was not nearly so dismayed at the dreary house and 
the sordid surroundings as she had been twenty-four 
hours before; for now she knew that it only spelled her 
opportunity, as that lovely lady on the train had suggested, 
and she was eager to be up and at it in the morning. 

They all went up together to the third story presently, 
and stood in the swept and garnished front room, Mr. 
Copley going over to the bureau and touching with a 
tender movement of caress the picture of his wife that 
stood there and then looking toward the empty white bed 
with a wistful anxiety. Cornelia could almost read the 
words of his heart, and into her own there entered the bur¬ 
den of her brother, and she knew she would never rest in 
her own selfish ease again until she felt sure that Carey 
was all right. 

She crept into bed beside Louise at last, almost too 
weary to pull up the covers; and let the little girl snuggle 
thankfully into her arms. 

“You’re almost—almost like my dear muvver,” mur- 
^ mured Louise sleepily, nosing into her neck and settling 
down on her sister’s arm with a sigh of content; and Cor¬ 
nelia thought how sweet it was to have a little sister to love 


RE-CREATIONS 


83 


and be loved by, and wondered how it was that she had 
dreaded having her for a roommate. 

Then, too weary to think any longer, she fell asleep. 

Hours afterward, it seemed, she was awakened by a 
stumbling footstep up the stairs, halting and fumbling 
about in the hall, and then going on, stumbling again, up 
to the third story. She heard a low muttering, too, and 
it frightened her. Had Carey been drinking? A strange, 
rank smell of cigarette smoke—and more—drifted into 
the door which had been left ajar; and a cold frenzy took 
hold of her heart. Carey had been drinking! She felt 
sure. A moment more, and she heard light footsteps 
from the little hall bedroom above, and Harry’s indignant 
young voice remonstrating, the sounds of a brief struggle, 
the thud of a heavy body on the bedsprings above, and 
then Harry’s voice coming clearly down the stairs in dis¬ 
gust as he pattered back to his hard little cot. 

“Ow! You great big fish, you! You oughtta be 
ashamed of yourself!” 

It was hours after that that Cornelia finally fell asleep 
again, and during those hours she found herself praying 
involuntarily, praying and pleading: “O God, help me 
to help Carey. Don’t let Carey be a drunkard. Don’t 
let him be wild and bad! Help him to want to be good and 
right. Help him to be a man. O God, help me to do 
something about it!” 


CHAPTER VII 


The first thing of which Cornelia was conscious in 
the morning was a scuffle overhead. Louise was sitting 
up, rubbing her eyes and looking apprehensively toward 
the ceiling; and the sounds grew louder and more vigorous, 
with now and then a heavy thud, like a booted foot drop¬ 
ping inertly to the floor. 

Cornelia sat up also, and listened. 

“It’s Harry, trying to wake Carey up!” whispered 
Louise knowingly. “Harry’s mad. I guess Carey came 
in late again, and didn’t undress. He does that way some¬ 
times when he’s tired.” 

“Yes?” said Cornelia with a shiver of understanding, 
“Yes, I heard him come in.” 

“Oh, did you?” Louise turned a searching glance on 
her sister, and then looked away with a sober little sigh. 
“Something ought to be done about that kid before mother 
gets home,” she said maturely. “It’ll kill mother.” 

“Something shall be done. There! don’t look so 
sorrowful, dear. Carey is young, and I’m sure we can 
do something if we all try with all our souls. I’m so 
glad I came home. Mother ought not to have been bear¬ 
ing that alone. Come, let’s get up.” She snatched her 
blue kimono, and dashed to the foot of the stairs. 

“Harry! Harry!” she called softly. “Never mind. 
Let him sleep.” 

84 


RE-CREATIONS 


85 


Harry appeared angrily at the head of the stairs, his 
own costume only half completed, his hair sticking all ways. 

‘‘Great, lazy boob! ,, he was saying. “He never un¬ 
dressed at all 1^ 

“Hush, dear! Don’t wake him. It will be better in 
every way if he gets his sleep out.” 

“But he hasn’t seen the poetry at all,” wailed the dis¬ 
appointed boy. “I held it in front of his face, and he 
wouldn’t open his eyes. I washed his face for him, too; 
and he wouldn’t get up.” 

“Well, never mind, dear; let him alone. I’ll save him 
some cakes after you are gone.” 

“Yes, pet him up, the great, lazy baby! That’s what’s 
the matter with him; he’s too big a baby, selfish, selfish! 
That’s what he is.” 

“Sh-sh, dear! Never mind! You can’t do anything 
when a person is as sleepy as that, and it’s no use trying. 
Come. Let’s have breakfast. I’ll be down as soon as you 
will”; and Cornelia smiled brightly above her aching 
heart, and hurried into her own clothes. 

“Cakes! Cakes!” said Louise happily. “Won’t it be 
great? Oh, I just can hardly wait for them. I’m sorry 
Carey isn’t awake.” 

“Never mind, dear; it will all come out straight pretty 
soon, and we mustn’t expect to succeed right away.” 

So she cheered them on their way, and made the morn¬ 
ing meal a success, steadily keeping her father’s thoughts 
from the absent boy upstairs until he had to run to catch 
his car. She put up a delightful lunch for Hariy and 
Louise, with dates and cheese in some of the sandwiches 


86 


RE-CREATIONS 


and nuts and lettuce in others, and a big piece of ginger¬ 
bread and an orange apiece. 

“It’s just like having mother again,” said Louise 
fervently as she kissed her sister goodby and ran to 
catch Harry, who was already half-way to the comer. 

Cornelia held the thought of those words in her heart, 
and cherished them over against the words she had heard 
from her young brother and sister the day before; and 
it comforted her. She watched them until they were out 
of sight, and then with a sigh climbed the stairs to Carey’s 
room. But Carey was locked in heavy slumber, with a 
flushed face and heavy breathing. She pinned up a paper 
to keep out the light, threw the eider-down quilt over him, 
and opened the window wide. Then she tiptoed away and 
left him. There was no use doing anything now. The 
fumes of liquor were still about him, and the heavy breath 
of cigarettes. She felt a deep horror and disgust in her 
soul as she thought about her brother, and tried to work 
out a plan for saving him as she went about clearing off 
the breakfast table and washing the dishes. 

There was plenty of meat for dinner that night, and 
lots of gravy left. She would need to think only about 
vegetables and a dessert. Chocolate blanc-mange would 
be good. She would make it at once and set it on the 
ice. Then, when the milkman came, she must remember 
to get a small bottle of cream to eat with it. By and by 
she would run down to the store and get a few carrots 
and a stalk of celery, and stew them together. That made 
a good combination. No, that wouldn’t do, either, too 


RE-CREATIONS 


87 


much sweetness, carrots and blanc-mange. A can of to¬ 
matoes cooked with two onions and a little celery would 
be better. That she could put on in the middle of the after¬ 
noon. There was plenty of pancake batter left for Carey 
and herself for lunch. She fixed the griddle far back 
on the range, and set the batter in the refrigerator. Then 
she went with swift steps to the disordered front room. 

She went to work unpacking the boxes and setting 
things in order in the hall and the dining-room. She dis¬ 
covered many needed kitchen utensils and some more 
dishes, and these she washed and put away. It was dis¬ 
couraging work, and somehow she did not seem to have 
accomplished much when at eleven o’clock she straightened 
up from a deep packing-box from which she had removed 
the last article, and looked about her. Piles of things 
everywhere, and not a spot to walk anywhere! When 
would she ever get done? A great weariness from her 
overwork of the day before was upon her, and she wanted 
to sit down in the midst of the heaps and cry. It was 
just then in her weakness that the thought of college 
came upon her, college with its clean orderliness, its regu¬ 
lar places for things, its delightful circle of companions, its 
interesting work, never any burden or hurry or worry. 

Just at this hour the classes were filing into the halls 
and going to new work. If she were back there, she 
would be entering her psychology class, and looking at 
the blackboard for the announcement of the day’s work 
assigned to each member of the class. Instead of that 
here she was in the midst of an unending task, hopeless and 


88 


RE-CREATIONS 


weary and frightfully discouraged. A tear of self-pity 
began to steal out, and she might have been weeping in 
a minute more if she had not been suddenly arrested in 
her thoughts by sounds overhead, far away and slight* 
but nevertheless unmistakable. 

She wiped her eyes, and went out into the hall, softly 
listening. Yes, undoubtedly Carey had waked up at last. 
She could hear the bedsprings rattle, and hear his feet 
moving lightly on the bare floor, as if he might be sitting 
up with his elbows on his knees and his face in his hands. 
Her instinct told her that he would not be very happy 
when he awoke. She could fancy how disgusted he must 
be with himself; for Carey had a conscience, and he could 
not but know that what he was doing was wrong. She 
could remember how good and helpful a boy he used to 
be, always thoughtful for his mother. It did not seem 
possible that he had completely changed. 

She could hear him moving slowly about now, a few 
steps and stopping a long time. Perhaps he had found 
the poetry on the bureau, although she reflected that it 
was altogether likely that Harry in his wrath might have 
cast it under the bed or anywhere it happened. Well, she 
would better be getting the griddle hot. 

She hurried into the kitchen, and pulled the griddle 
forward over the fire, opened the draughts, and began 
to get the table in order for an early lunch. She glanced 
at the clock. It was half past eleven. She would have 
everything ready the minute he came down. She could 
still hear him stirring around. He had come down to 


RE-CREATIONS 


89 


the bathroom, and the sound of his razor-strop whirred 
faintly. Well, that was a good sign. He was going to 
fix up a little before coming dowm. She put the last 
touches to her table, set the plates to warm, put on the 
syrup, and made the coffee. Then she took a broom, and 
went back to the front room to wait until he came down. 

Oh, that front room! It seemed more dreary than 
ever as she attempted to make a little path in the wilderness. 

She was trying to drag a big packing-box out into 
the hall when Carey finally came down, looking wholly 
a gentleman except for a deep scowl on his brow. He 
came at once to her assistance, somewhat gruffly, it must 
be owned, but quite efficiently. 

“What on earth are you trying to do, Nell?” he asked. 
“Don’t you know that’s too heavy for a girl to move ? I 
told you I’d help. Why didn’t you wait for me?” 

Cornelia, feeling a strange excitement upon her, looked 
up brightly, and tried to ignore the fact that he ought 
to have come down several hours before. 

“Well, there’s so much to be done,” she said. “I cer¬ 
tainly am glad to see you, though. But suppose we have 
lunch first. I’m hungry as a bear, and see, it’s five minutes 
to twelve. Can you eat now?” 

“Oh, any time!” he said indifferently. “What is it 
you want done, anyway? This room’s a mess. Some 
dump, the whole house! It makes me disgusted.” 

He stood with his hands in his pockets, surveying the 
desolate scene, and voicing Cornelia’s own thoughts of 
a few moments before. But it was Cornelia’s forte to 


90 


RE-CREATIONS 


rise to an occasion when every one else was disheartened. 
She put on a cheery smile. 

“Just you wait, brother, till I get through. I’ve plans 
for that room, and it won’t be so bad when it gets cleaned 
and fixed a little. Suppose you take those boxes down 
cellar, and those pictures and tubs, and the old trunk and 
chest out to the shed room beyond the kitchen, while 
I scramble some eggs and settle the coffee. Everything 
else is ready. Then after lunch we’ll get to work. I shall 
need your help to turn the piano around and open those 
boxes of books. Why do you suppose they put the book¬ 
case face against the wall, with the piano in front of it? 
Seems to me that was dumb.” 

“All movers are dumb!” declared Carey with a sweep 
of his arm, as if he would include the whole world. But 
he went to work vigorously, and carried out the things 
with a whirl, and Cornelia perceived she must rush to 
have a plate of cakes before he was done with his 
assigned task. 

“Aw, gee! You saved me some cakes!” he said with 
a grin of delight when they sat down at the table. “I 
oughtta’ve got up for breakfast. But I was all in. We 
took a joy ride last night down to Baltimore. I saw your 
poetry. It was great. Who wrote it? You, of course.” 

“We wanted you to be sure to get up, but of course 
you must have been sleepy riding all that way in the wind. 
It must have been great, though. It was full moon last 
1 night, wasn’t it?” said his sister, ignoring the horror that 
the thought of the “joy ride” gave her. 


RE-CREATIONS 


91 


“It sure was,” said the boy, kindling at the memory. 
“The fellas put ether in the gas, and she certainly did hum. 
We just went whizzing. It was a jim-dandy car, twelve- 
cylinder, some chariot! B’longs to a fella named Brand 
Barlock. He’s a prince, that boy is! Has thousands of 
dollars to spend as he pleases; and you’d never know he 
had a cent, he’s so big-hearted. Love him like a brother. 
Why, he’d let me take that car anywhere, and never turn 
a hair; and it cost some money, that car did, this year’s 
racing-model! Gee, but she’s a winner. Goes like a streak 
of greased lightning.” 

Cornelia suppressed her apprehension over the possi¬ 
bilities of accident both physical and financial, and 
bloomed with interest. Of what use would it be to reprove 
her brother for taking such chances ? It would only make 
him angry, and turn him against her. She would see 
whether she could win him back to the old comradeship, 
and then there might come a time when her advice would 
reach him. At present it would be useless. 

“It must be great to have a fine car,” she said eagerly. 
“I love to ride. There were two or three girls at college 
who had cars, and used to take us out sometimes; but of 
course that didn’t happen very often.” 

“I’ll borrow Brand’s car and take you sometime,” he 
said eagerly. “He wouldn’t mind.” 

“O Carey! No, you mustn’t do that!” she cried in 
alarm, “at least”—as she saw his frown of displeasure— 
“not till I know him, you know. I shouldn’t at all like 
to ride in a car whose owner I didn’t know. You must 


RE-CEE ATION S 


92 

bring him here when we get all fixed up, and I’ll meet 
him. Then perhaps he’ll ask me to go along too some¬ 
time, although I’m not sure I’d like to go like a streak of 
lightning. Still, I’ve never tried it, and you know I never 
used to be afraid of things.” 

“Sure, you’re all right, Nell. But I’d never bring 
Brand to this dump! He’s a rich man’s son, I tell you, 
and lives in a swell neighborhood.” 

“Doesn’t he know where you live?” 

Carey shrugged his shoulders. 

“Oh, yes; he drives around, and honks the horn for 
me, and brings me home again; but I wouldn’t ask him 
in-” 

“Wait, I say, till we get it fixed up. You know I’m 
an interior decorator! Oh, I wish there was just a fire¬ 
place! It makes such a cozy, cheerful place.” 

“I could build one if I had the stuff,” declared Carey, 
interested. “What kind do you want? But then, every¬ 
thing costs so darned much. If I only had a job!” 

“Oh, you’ll get a job, of course,” said his sister sym¬ 
pathetically, trying to reconcile his troubled look with what 
the children had said about his indifference toward work. 
“Where did you work last?” 

The color rolled in a slow, dull wave over Carey’s rest¬ 
less young face; and a look of sullen hopelessness came 
into his handsome eyes. 

“Oh, I haven’t had anything regular since I left school. 
I—you see—that is—oh, hang it all! I can’t get anything 
worth while. I’ve been doing some tinkering down at the 



RE-CREATIONS 


m 


garage. I could work steady there, but Dad makes it so 
hot for me when I do that I have to do it on the sly. 
He says it’s just a lazy job, hanging round with the fellas 
getting rides. He don’t know anything about it. It’s real 
man’s work, I tell you, hard work at that; and I’m learning 
all about machinery. Why, Nell, there isn’t a fella at 
the garage can tell as quick as I can what’s the matter 
with a car. Bob sends for me to find out after he’s 
worked half a day, and I can tell right off the bat when I 
hear the engine go what’s wrong.” 

Cornelia watched his eyes sparkle as he talked, and per¬ 
ceived that when he spoke of machinery he was in his ele¬ 
ment. He loved it. He loved it as she loved the idea of 
her chosen profession. 

That being the case, he ought to be encouraged. 

“Why, I should think it was a good thing to stick at 
it while you are looking around for something better,” 
she said slowly, wondering whether her father would blame 
her for going against his advice; “I should think maybe it 
will prepare you for something else in the line of machin¬ 
ery. What is there big and really worth while that you’d 
like to get into if you could? Of course, you wouldn’t 
want to be just a mender of cars all your life.” 

His face took on a firm, manly look, and his eyes grew 
alert and earnest. 

“Of course not!” he said crisply. “Father thinks I 
would, and I can’t make him see it any other way. He’s 
just plain disappointed in me, that’s all”—the young man’s 
tone took on a bitter tinge,—“but I know it will be a step 


94 


RE-CREATIONS 


to something. Why, there’s all sorts of big concerns now 
that make and sell machines; and, if you understand all 
about machinery, you stand a better chance for getting in 
to be business manager some day. There’s tanks, and oil- 
wells, and tractors, and a lot of things. Of course I 
couldn’t jump into a thing like that at the start. Dad 
thinks I could. He thinks if I had any pep at all I could 
just walk up to the president of some big concern, and say, 
‘Here I am; take me,’ and he’d do it, just like that. But— 
for one thing, look at me! Do I look like a business man ?” 
He stood back, and lifted his arms with a dramatic gesture, 
pointing toward his shabby raiment. 

“And then another thing, I’ve got to get experience 
first. If I only had a pull somewhere—but--” 

“I’ll talk to father,’’ said Cornelia soothingly. She 
looked at him thoughtfully. “You ought to earn enough 
for a new suit right away, of course, and have it ready 
—keep it nice, I mean, so that, when a good opportunity 
offers, you will be suitably dressed to apply for it. Sup¬ 
pose I talk to father; I’ll do it to-night. Meantime, you 
help me here a day or two, and then you go back to that 
garage, and work for a week or two, and earn money 
enough for your suit and what other things you need, and 
keep your eye open for something better all the while.” 

“That’s the talk!’ 5 said Carey joyfully. “Now you’re 
shouting! You put some heart in a fella. Gee, I’m glad 
you’re home. It’s been awful without mother. It was 
bad enough the last few months when she was sick, but 
it was some dump when she went away entirely.” 



RE-CREATIONS 


95 


“Yes, I know,” said the sister sympathetically, reflect¬ 
ing that it would be wiser not to suggest that he might 
have helped to make the mother sick by his careless life. 
“Well, we must get things fixed up nice and pleasant for 
her when she gets back, and try to keep her well and happy 
the rest of her life. ,> 

“That’s right!” said Carey with a sudden deep note 
in his voice that came from the heart, and gave Cornelia 
a bit of encouragement. 

“I think I could clean that suit up a little for you, and 
make it look better-” 

Carey looked down at himself doubtfully. 

“It’s pretty bad,” he said; “and it costs a lot to have 
it cleaned and pressed. I tried last week to do something, 
but we couldn’t find the irons.” 

“I found them yesterday,” said Cornelia brightly. 
“We’ll see what we can do this evening if you can be 
at home.” 

“Oh, this evening!” said Carey doubtfully. 

“Yes, we can’t spare the time till then, because tills 
house has got to be put in order.” She gave him a swift, 
anxious glance and a winning smile. “If you have another 
engagement, break it for once. There’s so much to be 
done, dear, and we do need you terribly. Tell that Brand 
friend of yours that you’re busy for a few days, and you’ll 
make it up by inviting him to a fudge party when we 
get settled.” 

“Oh! Gee! Could we?” said Carey half doubtful, 



96 


RE-CREATIONS 


half pleased. “Well, all right! I’ll do my best. Now s 
what do you want done with this old junk?” 

“Those go in the back shed, over by the tubs. Take 
that out in the yard and burn it, and this pile goes upstairs. 
Just put it in the upper hall, and I’ll attend to it later. My! 
What a difference it makes to get a little space clear!” 

They worked steadily all the afternoon, Carey proving 
himself as willing as herself. 

They washed the windows and the floor, and swept 
down the walls of parlor and hall. 

“Ugly old wall-paper!” said Cornelia, eying it spite¬ 
fully. “That’s got to come off if I have to do it myself 
and have bare walls.” 

“Why, that’s easy!” said Carey. “Give me an old 
rag!” and he began to slop the water on and scrape with 
an old caseknife. 

“Well, that’s delightful!” said Cornelia with relief. “I 
didn’t know it would be so easy; we’ll do a little at a time 
until it is done, and then we’ll either paper it ourselves 
or paint it. I do wish we could manage to get a fireplace.” 

“Well, maybe we can find some stone cheap where 
they’re hauling it away. Harry’ll know some place likely; 
he gets around with that grocery wagon. You know I 
helped a stone-mason last summer for a while. Mother 
hated it, though; so I quit; but I learned a lot about mix¬ 
ing cement and how to lay it on. I know about the draughts 
too. I bet I could make as good a fireplace as the next 
one. Gee! I wish I knew where to get some stone or brick.” 

“Stone would be best,” said Cornelia; “it would make 


RE-CREATIONS 


97 


a lovely chimney mantel, but I suppose you couldn’t be so 
elaborate as making a mantel!” 

“Sure, I could! But it would take some stone to do 
all that.” 

“I know where there’s a lot of stone!” They turned 
around surprised and there stood Harry in the doorway, 
with Louise just behind him, looking in with delighted 
faces at the newly cleaned room and the hard-working 
elder brother. 

“Where?” Carey wheeled around eagerly. 

“Down on the dump. It was brought there yesterday, 
a whole lot of it, several cartloads; came from a place 
where they have been taking down an old wall, and they 
had no place to put it, I guess. Anyhow, it’s there.” 

“I’ll go see if there’s enough,” said Carey, flashing out 
of the door and up the street. 

He was back in a minute with a big stone in his hand. 

“It’s just cellar stone,” he said deprecatingly; “but 
there’s plenty.” 

“Humph!” said Louise maturely. “Well, I never 
thought I’d be glad I lived near that old dump! Do you 
mean we’re going to have a real fireplace, Carey?” 

“That’s the contract, kid, and I guess I can make good. 
But how are we going to get that stone here ?” 

“There’s the express-wagon,” said Louise thought¬ 
fully. “Harry has to work, but I could haul some.” 

“You!” said Carey contemptuously; “do you suppose 
I’d let a girl haul stone for me ? No, I’ll go borrow a truck. 
I know a fella has one, and it’s almost quitting time. I 
7 


98 


RE-CREATIONS 


know he’ll lend it to me ; and, if he does, I’ll work until 
I get those stones all landed, or like as not somebody else 
will get their eye on them. Stones like that cost a lot 
nowadays, even if they are only cellar stones.” 

“Cellar stones are lovely,” said Cornelia delightedly. 
“They have a lot of iron in them, and make very artistic 
houses. I heard a big architect say that once in a lecture 
at college.” 

“Well there’s nothing like being satisfied with what 
you have to have,” said Carey. “Here, Nell, you look out 
for the rest of that base-board; I’m off to borrow a truck. 
Next time you see me I’ll be riding a load of stone!” 

“I’ll come down at six o’clock and help you load!” 
shouted Harry from the third story, where he was rapidly 
changing into his working-clothes. 

“All right, kid; that’s the stuff. Nell will save us 
some supper, and we’ll work till dark.” 

“It won’t be dark,” said Louise sagely. “It’s moon¬ 
light tonight.” 

“That’s right too,” said Carey as he seized his hat and 
dashed out of the house. 


CHAPTER VIII 


“You’ve got him to work!” said Louise joyously, 
looking at her sister with shining eyes. 

“I didn’t do it,” said Cornelia, smiling. “He came 
of his own accord, and seems awfully interested.” 

“Well, it’s because you’re here, of course; that makes 
all the difference in the world.” 

“Thank you, Louie,” said her sister, stooping to kiss 
the warm cheek lovingly. 

“Now,” said Louise pulling off her clean middy blouse, 
and starting upstairs, “what do you want me to do first?” 

“Well, I thought maybe you’d like to dust these books 
and put them in the bookcase, dear; then they’ll be out of 
our way.” 

Louise was rapidly buttoning herself into her old ging¬ 
ham work-dress when Cornelia came hurriedly from the 
kitchen and called up the stairs, a note of dismay in 
her voice: 

“Louie, I don’t suppose you happen to know who 
owns this house, do you? It’s just occurred to me we’ll 
have to ask permission to build a fireplace, and that may 
upset the whole thing. Maybe the owner won’t want an 
amateur to build a fireplace in his house.” 

“Oh, that’s all right,” shouted Louise happily, appear¬ 
ing at the stair-head. “Father owns it. It was the only 
thing he had left after he lost his money.” 


99 


100 


RE-CREATIONS 


“Father owns it ?” said Cornelia incredulously. “How 
strange! A house like this! When did he buy it ?” 

“He didn’t buy it. He signed a note for a poor man; 
and then the man died, and never paid the money, and 
father had to take the house.” 

“Oh !” said Cornelia thoughtfully, seeing more tragedy 
in the family history, and feeling a sudden great tender¬ 
ness for the father who had borne so many disappoint¬ 
ments and yet kept sweet and strong. “Well, then, anyhow 
we can do as we please with it,” she added happily. “I’m 
awfully glad. I guess we shan’t have to ask permission. 
Father ’ll like it all right.” 

“Well, I rather guess he will, especially if it keeps 
Carey busy a little while,” said Louise. 

They worked rapidly and happily together, and soon 
the books were in orderly rows in the bookcase. 

Cornelia had found a bundle of old curtains in one 
of the boxes; and now she brought them out, and began 
to measure the windows. 

“The lace curtains all wore out, and mother threw 
them away,” volunteered Louise sadly. 

“Never mind; I’ve found a lot of pretty good scrim 
ones here, and I’m going to wash them and stencil a pat¬ 
tern of wild birds across them,” said Cornelia. “They’ll 
do for the bedrooms, anyway. The windows are the 
same size all over the house, aren’t they? I have some 
beautiful patterns for stencilling up in my trunk that 
I made for some of the girls’ curtains at college.” 


RE-CREATIONS 


101 


“How perfectly dear!” said Louise. “Can’t I go up 
and find them?” 

“Yes, they are in the green box just under the tray. 
I wish we had a couple more windows in this room, it is 
so dark. If I were a carpenter for a little while I would 
knock out that partition into the hall, and saw out two 
windows, one each side of the fireplace over there,” said 
Cornelia, motioning toward the blank sidewall where al¬ 
ready her mind had reared a lovely stone fireplace. 

“There’s a carpenter lives next door,” said Louise 
thoughtfully. “He goes to work every morning at seven 
o’clock, but I suppose he would charge a lot.” 

“I wonder,” said Cornelia. “We’ll have, to think about 
that”; and she stood off in the hall, and began to look 
around with her eyelashes drawn down like curtains 
through which she was sharply watching a thought that 
had appeared on her mental horizon. 

On the whole it was a very exciting evening, and a 
happy one also. When Harry and his father came home, 
there were two loads of stone already neatly piled inside 
the little yard, and Carey was just flourishing up to the 
door with a loud honk of the horn on his borrowed truck, 
bringing a third load. Harry had of course told his father 
the new plans, and the father had been rather dubious 
about such a scheme. 

“He’ll just begin it, and then go off and leave a mess 
around,” he had told Harry with a sigh. 

But, when he saw the eager light on his eldest son’s 
face, he took heart of hope. Carey was so lithe and alert* 


108 


RE-CREATIONS 


worked with so much precision, strength, and purpose, 
and seemed so intent on what he was doing. Perhaps, 
after all, something good would come of it, although he 
looked with an anxious eye at the borrowed car, and won¬ 
dered what he would do if Carey should break it and be 
liable for its price. 

Harry turned to, and helped with the unloading; and 
both were persuaded to come in barely for a five minutes’ 
bite at the good dinner that was already on the table. They 
despatched it with eagerness and little ceremony, and were 
off for another load, asking to have their pudding saved 
until they returned, as every minute must count before 
dark, and they had no time for pudding just now. 

When the boys were away again, Cornelia began to 
talk with her father about Carey. She told him a little 
of their talk that morning, and persuaded him not to 
say anything for a while to stop Carey from working 
at the garage until he had earned enough to buy some 
new clothes and get a little start. The father reluc¬ 
tantly consented, although he declared it would not do any 
good, for Carey would spend every cent he earned on his 
wild young friends; and, if he bought any clothes, they 
would be evening clothes. He had seen before how it 
worked. Nevertheless, although he spoke discouragedly, 
Cornelia knew that he would stand by her in her attempt 
to help Carey back to respectability; and she went about 
clearing off the supper table with a lighter heart. 

After supper she saw to it that there was plenty of 
hot water for baths when the boys got through their 


RE-CREATIONS 


10 S 

work, and she got out an old flannel shirt and a pair of 
Carey’s trousers, and set a patch, and mended a tear, and 
put them in order for work. Then she had the ironing- 
board and a basin and soap ready for cleaning his other 
clothes when he came in. For Carey-like he had gone 
to haul all that stone in the only suit he had to wear for 
good. She sighed as she thought what a task was before 
her. For something inside Carey needed taking out and 
adjusting before Carey would ever be a dependable, prac¬ 
tical member of the family. Nevertheless, she was proud 
of him as she listened to the thud of each load and glanced 
out of the front window at the ever-increasing pile of 
stones that now ran over the tiny front yard and was en¬ 
croaching on the path that led to the back door. 

“Gotta get ’em all, or somebody else ’ll get onto it, and 
take ’em,” declared Harry when he came in for a drink, 
his face and hands black and a happy, manly look around 
his mouth and eyes. 

It was ten o’clock when the last load was dumped, by 
the light of all the lamps in the house brought out into the 
yard, and it was more than an hour later before the boys 
got back from returning the truck to its owner. They 
were tired and dirty almost beyond recognition, but hap¬ 
pier than they had been for many a day, and glad of the 
bit of a feast which their sister had set out for them, and 
of the hot baths. 

“Well, if we don’t have a fireplace now, it won’t be 
my fault!” declared Harry, mopping a warm red face 
with a handkerchief that had seen better days. “Gee! We 


104 


RE-CREATIONS 


certainly did work. Carey can work, too, when he tries, 
I’ll say”; and there was a note of admiration in his voice 
for his elder brother, which was not missed by either the 
brother or the watching sisters. Everybody slept well that 
night, and they were all so weary that they came near to 
oversleeping next morning. 

I It was after the children had gone to school and Carey 
was off getting lime and sand and cement for his work 
that Cornelia went out into the back yard to hang up the 
curtains which she had just washed, and, turning away 
from the line, she encountered a pair of curious eyes under 
the ruffle of a gay calico boudoir-cap whose owner was 
standing on the neighboring back porch, the one to the 
left, where Louise had said the carpenter lived. 

“Good morning!” said the other woman briskly, as 
if she had a perfect right to be intimate. “You all ain’t 
agoing to build, are you? I see all them stone come last 
night, and I couldn’t make out what in life you all was 
going to do with ’em, lessen you was goin’ to pull down 
and build out.” 

Cornelia had a foolish little hesitancy in responding to 
this lively overture, for her instinct was to look down upon 
people who lived in so mean a neighborhood; but she re¬ 
flected quickly that she was living there herself, and per¬ 
haps these people didn’t like it any better than she did. 
Why should she look down upon them? So she looked 
up with a pleasant smile, if a trifle belated. 

“Oh, good morning. No, we’re only going to have a 
fireplace. I wish we were going to build; the house isn’t 


RE-CREATIONS 


10 * 


arranged at all the way I should like it, and it’s such 
fun to have things made the way you want them, don’t 
you think ?” 

“Yes,” said the neighbor, eying her curiously. “I 
s’pose it is. I never have tried it. My husband’s a car¬ 
penter, and of course he don’t have time to make things 
for me. It’s like the shoemaker’s children goin’ barefoot, 
as the say in’ is. I was going to say that, if you all was 
buildin’, my husband, being a carpenter, might be handy 
for you. He takes contracts sometimes.” 

“Oh, does he?” Cornelia’s color rose brightly. “I 
certainly wish we could afford to have some work done. 
There are two windows I need badly, and a partition I 
want down; but I can’t do it now. Perhaps later, when 
mother gets home from the hospital, and we’re not under 
such heavy expense, we can manage it.” 

The neighbor eyed her thoughtfully. 

“Be nice if you could have ’em done when she got 
back,” she suggested. “Your mother looked to be an 
awful sweet woman. I saw her when she come here first, 
and I said to my husband, I said: ‘Jim, them’s nice people. 
It does one good to have a woman like that livin’ next door, 
she’s so lady-like and pretty, don’t you know, and so 
kinda sweet.’ I was aw r ful sorry when I heard she had to 
go to the hospital. Say, she certainly did look white when 
they took her away. My! but ain’t she fortunate she’s 
got a daughter old enough to fill her place? You been to 
college, ain’t you? My! but that’s fine! Well, say, I’ll 
tell Jim about it. Mebbe he could do your work for you 


RE-CREATION S 


tO 6 

nights if you wasn’t in a hurry, and then it wouldn’t come 
so high, you know. It would be nice if you could get it 
all fixed up for your ma when she comes back, Jim wouldn’t 
mind when you paid him, you know. I’ll tell him to come 
in and look it over when he gets in this afternoon, anyhow.” 

“Oh!” said Cornelia, taking a quick breath of astonish¬ 
ment. “Oh, really I don’t believe you better. Of course, 
I might manage part of what I want if it didn’t cost too 
much, but I’ve heard all building is very high now.” 

She was making a lightning calculation, and thinking 
of the money she had brought back from college. Would 
it—could she? Ought she? It would be so nice if 
she dared! 

“That’s all right. You’re a neighbor and Jim wouldn’t 
mind doing a good turn. He’d make it as cheap as he 
could. It won’t cost nothing for him to look it over, any¬ 
how. I’ll tell him when he comes back. My goodness! 
I smell that bread burning. Excuse me, I must go in”; 
and the neighbor vanished, leaving Cornelia bewildered 
and a trifle upset, and immediately certain that she ought 
not to allow the woman to send in her husband. Well, 
she would think it over, and run in later to tell her it 
was impossible. That was clearly the only thing to do. 

So she hurried back to put on the irons, for her cur¬ 
tains would soon be dry enough to iron, and she wanted 
to get them stencilled and up as soon as possible, the win¬ 
dows looked so bare and staring, especially up in 
Carey’s room. 


CHAPTER IX 


Carey came back, and worked all the morning in the 
cellar at the foundation for his fireplace, occasionally 
coming up to measure and talk learnedly about draughts, 
and the like. Cornelia was very happy seeing him at it, 
whether a fireplace ever resulted or not. It was enough 
that he was interested and eager over it; and, while she 
was waiting for her irons to heat, she sat down and 
wrote a bright little letter to her mother, telling how Carey 
was helping her put the house to rights, although she care¬ 
fully refrained from mentioning a fireplace; for she was 
still dubious about whether it would be a success. But 
late in the afternoon, after the lunch was cleared away, 
the dinner well started, and the beautifully laundered cur¬ 
tains spread out on the dining-room couch ready for deco¬ 
ration, Carey called her down cellar, and proudly showed 
her a large, neat, square section of masonry arising from 
the cellar floor beneath the parlor, to the height of almost 
her shoulders, and having its foundation down at proper 
depth for safety so he told her. 

“My! How you’ve worked, Carey! I think its won¬ 
derful you’ve accomplished so much in such a short time.” 

“Aw! That’s nothing!” said Carey, exuding dflight 
at her praise. “I coulda done more if I hadn’t had to go 
after the stuff. But say, Nell, I promised Pat I’d come 
around and help him with a big truck this afternoon; and 
I guess I better go now, or I won’t get home in time for 

107 


m 


RE-CREATIONS 


sapper. Pat owes me five dollars anyhow, and I need it 
to pay for the stuff I bought this morning. I told the 
fella Fd bring it round this afternoon/’ 

Cornelia thought of her hoarded money, and opened 
her lips to offer some of it, then thought better of it. It 
would be good for Carey to take some of the responsibility 
and earn the money to beautify the house. He would be 
more interested in getting a job. So she smiled assent, 
and told him to hurry and be sure to be back in time for 
supper, for she was going to have veal potpie, and it had to 
be eaten as soon as it was done, or it would fall. 

Carey went away whistling, and Cornelia sat down 
to her stencilling. 

She had done a great deal of this work at college, often 
making quite a bit of money at it; so it was swift work, 
and soon she had a pair of curtains finished, and pinned 
one up to the window to get the effect. She was just 
getting down from the step-ladder when she heard a 
knock at the door; and, wondering, she hurried to open it. 

There stood a tall, bronzed man with a red face, very 
blue eyes, and a pleasant smile; and it suddenly came over 
her that this must be “Jim,” and she had forgotten to tell 
his wife not to send him over. 

“My wife said you wanted me to come over and see 
about some work you wanted done,” he said, pulling off 
his cap and stepping in. “I thought I’d just run right in 
before dark, if you didn’t mind work-clothes.” 

“Oh, no,” said Cornelia, looking worried, “of course 
not; but really I’m afraid I didn’t make it plain to your 


RE-CREATIONS 


1 m 

wife I haven't any idea of doing anything now—that is, 
I don’t suppose it would be possible—I haven’t any money, 
and won’t have for a while.” 

“That’s all right,” said the man, looking around the 
house alertly; “it don’t cost nothing to estimate. I just 
love to estimate. What was it you was calculating to 
do when you do build over?” 

“Oh!” said Cornelia, abashed. “I don’t know that 
I had really thought it all out, but this house is so cramped 
and ugly I was just wishing I could take down this parti¬ 
tion and throw the parlor and hall all into one. Do you 
think the ceiling would stand that ? I suppose it’s a fool¬ 
ish idea, for I don’t know a thing about building; but this 
would really make a very pretty room if the hall wasn’t 
cut off this way.” 

The man stepped into the doorway, and looked up, 
eying the ceiling speculatively, with his mouth open. 

“Why, yes, you could do that,” he drawled. “It’s a 
pretty long span, but you could do it. You’d have to use 
a coupla colyooms to brace her up, but that’s done—with¬ 
out you used a I beam. That you could do.” 

“An eye beam! What’s an eye beam?” asked Cornelia, 
interested. 

“Why, it’s an iron beam running along underneath. 
You might be able to get her under out of sight, but most 
likely you’d have to have her below the ceiling. You could 
box her in, and you could make some more of ’em, and 
have a beamed ceiling if you want.” 


110 


RE-CREATIONS 


“Oh, a beamed ceiling! But that would be expensive. 
How much does an eye beam cost ?” 

“Oh, I should say a matter of fifteen or eighteen dol¬ 
lars fer one that long,” said the man, letting his eye rove 
back and forth over the ceiling as if in search of a possible 
foot or two more of length concealed somewhere. 

“Oh!” said Cornelia again wistfully. “And would it 
cost much to put it in ?” She was trying to think just how 
much of that money was lying in her drawer upstairs. 

“Well, not so much if I did it evenings. That would 
make a mighty nice room out of it, as you say. Fd be 
willing to let you have the stuff it took at cost, and I might 
be able to get a second-handed I beam. Come to think, 
there is one down to the shop a man ordered, and then 
done ’ithout. I might get it for you as low as five dollars 
if it would be long enough.” 

He took out his foot rule and began to measure, and 
Cornelia drew her breath quickly. It seemed too good to 
be true! If she only could make over that room before 
her mother got home! 

“What else was it you was calculatin’ to do?” the 
man asked, looking up suddenly from the paper on which 
he had set down the measurement. “I’ll look at that there 
I beam in the morning when I go down to the shop. I 
believe she’s long enough. Was there anything else?” 

“Well, my brother is trying to build a stone fireplace 
over on that blank wall opposite, and I was wishing I had 
a window on each side, the room is so dark. But I guess 


RE-CREATIONS 


111 


we would nave to wait for that, even if we did this. Win¬ 
dows are expensive, aren’t they?” 

“Well, some; and then again they ain’t, if you get a 
second-handed one. Sometimes people change their minds, 
and have a different kind of winder after one’s made, and 
then it’s left on the boss’s hands, and he’s glad to get rid 
of it at cost. Got a lot of winders all sizes layin’ round 
over there. Get ’em cheap I guess. Say, you’d oughtta 
have a coupla them di’mon’-pane winders, just smallish 
ones, over there each side your chimney.” 

He cast his eye around back to the hall, and pointed 
uncertainly toward the long blank space of dull-brown 
faded wall-paper. 

“Then you need a bay there,” he said interestedly. 
“Say, them bays now do make a pretty spot in a room. 
Got one where I was workin’ yesterday, just sets right 
outa the room ’bout the height of a table, like a little room; 
has three winders to it, and the woman has cute little cur¬ 
tains to ’em, and ferns and a bird-cage. Say, that would 
make your room real pleasant like.” 

“It certainly would,” said Cornelia, her eyes shining 
and a wistful sigh creeping to her lips; “but I guess it 
won’t be pos-” 

“Say! You got some real nice curtains to your win¬ 
ders. I like them birds flying.” 

Then he caught a glimpse of the table over which Cor¬ 
nelia had spread the curtain on which she was working. 
He saw the three birds already finished, and the brush and 



in 


RE-CREATIONS 


paints and patterns lying there; and then he glanced back 
at her in astonishment. 

“Say, you don’t mean to say you’re makin’ them birds 
on them curtains! My! Ain’t that interesting? How 
do you do it? Make one, and le’me see.” 

Cornelia obligingly sat down, and made two birds in 
flight while the carpenter watched every movement, and 
exclaimed admiringly. It would not have been Cornelia 
if she had not visioned at that instant how her college- 
mates would laugh if they could see her now; but she smiled 
to herself as she pleasantly showed him all the tricks of 
her small craft. 

“Well,” he said as she finished the second bird, “now 
ain’t that great? I never supposed any one could do a 
thing like that. I supposed it was done by machinery some¬ 
how. Say, I hope you won’t take no offence, but would 
you be willing to do something like that fer pay? Your 
saying you couldn’t afford them winders made me think 
of it. I’d like mighty well to get some curtains for my 
wife for all over the house; and if you could do some kind 
of a fancy pattern on ’em,—you and she could talk it 
over, and fix that,—I’d be willin’ to trade off your work 
fer mine. She’d tell her friends, too, and you could get 
other orders. I think it would pay.” 

Cornelia’s cheeks grew rosy, but she held up her spirited 
little head, and tried to be sensible about it. This wasn’t 
exactly what she had expected, of course, to get her first 
order from a common working man, but then, what dif¬ 
ference? It was a real order and would bring her and the 


RE-CREATIONS 


113 


family what they needed, more windows, more light, more 
room; why not ? And, if her dream of uplifting and beau¬ 
tifying homes had been a true ideal, why, here was her 
opportunity. Everybody began in a small way, and it 
really was wonderful to have opportunity, even so humble 
as this, open up right at the beginning. She caught her 
breath, and tried to think. Of course everybody began 
everything in a small way at first. 

“Well,” she said, hesitating, “I think perhaps I could. 
That is really my business, you know, interior decorating. 
I mean to do it on a large scale some day.” 

“You don’t say!” said the man, looking at her admir¬ 
ingly. “I know women is getting into business a lot these 
days. But I ain’t never heard of that—what do you call 
it—interior decorating? You don’t mean wall-paper and 
painting? ’Cause I could introduce you to my boss. He 
builds a lot of houses.” 

“Well, yes,” said Cornelia, trying not to laugh. “My 
business is after the house is all built. I select wall-papers 
and curtains, and tell them what furniture to get, or how 
to arrange what furniture they have so it will look well 
in a room. I’ve been studying along those lines in college; 
it’s artistic work, you know.” 

“I see!” said the man, looking at her with narrowing, 
speculative eyes; “good idea, real good idea! Like to 
have some one arrange my house. Tell us what to buy. 
We’re laying out to get some new furnitoor, either a parlor 
soot or a dining-room, though my wife’s got her heart 
set on a new bedroom outfit, and I don’t know which ’U 


8 


114 RE-CREATIONS 

come off first. Guess I’ll send her in to talk it over with 
you. I like them little birds real well. Where you goin’ 
to put ’em? Here?” He looked at the two long 
front windows. 

“No, these are going up on the third floor in my 
brother’s room, the front room. I’m going to make that 
all blue and white, and these blue birds will make it 
look cheerful.” 

“H’m! I guess when Nannie sees ’em she’ll be strong 
fer the bedroom set, and let the other rooms go a spell 
till we can afford it.” 

“Why not paint your old bedroom set, and have it 
decorated like your curtains, and save the money for some 
good furniture downstairs ? They are using painted fur¬ 
niture a lot now for bedrooms.” 

He stared at her eagerly. 

“There, now, see? I told you you were going to be 
real useful to me. You’ve saved me the price of a bedroom 
set a’ready. It’s a bargain. You do the decorating, and 
I’ll do the carpentering. I’ll see about them winders, and 
let you know tomorrow afternoon.” 

When he had gone, Cornelia stood in the middle of 
her dreary little parlor, and looked around with startled 
eyes. Here she had contracted to have windows put in 
and the partition taken down, and promised to go into 
business herself right away at once. What would her 
father say to it all? 

But she could see Harry and Louise coming down the 
street, and she hurried into the kitchen to prepare the des- 


RE-CREATIONS 115 

sert for dinner; for it was getting late for what she 
had planned. 

She must put the new ideas out of her mind and 
get back to her work, or dinner would be late. 

The children came bursting into the kitchen, eager 
to see how much Carey had accomplished, and clattered 
down cellar and up again, their hands full of cookies their 
sister had baked, their eyes happy, and somehow home and 
life looked good to Cornelia. This was the great day at 
college when the play on which she had spent so much time 
and thought was to come off, and she had expected to have 
a hard time bearing the thought that all that was going on 
and she not in it; but she never once thought of it all day 
until just as her head was touching the pillow that night, 
and then she was so sleepy that it only came as a floating 
thought of some far-off period of her existence in which 
she now had no part. She was wholly and entirely inter¬ 
ested just now in her home and what she was going to 
do for the neighborhood. She had not told her father 
yet about the carpenter and his propositions. She wanted 
to have something more definite to tell, perhaps to sur¬ 
prise her family with, if possible; so she had merely asked 
him casually if he objected to her making little inexpensive 
changes in the house, things that she could manage her¬ 
self; and he had joyously told her to do what she liked, 
pull the walls down if she wanted to, only so she got things 
fixed to please her. 


CHAPTER X 


Cornelia awoke with a great zeal for work upon her. 
She had dreamed a living room that would lift the whole 
house out of the sordid neighborhood and make it a place 
of delight. She had thought out some built-in seats with 
lockers where many of the odds and ends could be stowed; 
she had planned to paint the old, cheap dining-room fur¬ 
niture a wonderful deep-cream enamel and decorate it like 
some of the expensive sets in the stores; so would she treat 
the old bedroom sets that were not of real wood. The 
set in Carey’s room was old walnut and valuable. A little 
oil would bring it back to its rich brown beauty. The set 
in her mother’s room was a cheap one; and that she would 
paint gray with decorations of little pink buds and trailing 
vines. The set in her own room should be ivory-white 
with sepia shadows. She would go somewhere and learn 
how to put on wall-paper, or find a man who would do it 
very cheaply; and little by little the old house should be 
made over. Cheap felt-paper of pale gray or pearl or cream 
for the bedrooms, and corn-color for the living room. She 
wasn’t sure what she would do with the dining-room 
yet till she had the furniture painted, perhaps paint the 
walls white, and tack little moldings in patterns around 
for panels outlined in green. Green! That was the color 
for the dining-room furniture. A green and white dining¬ 
room, with a fern-dish for the centre of the table and a 
grass rug under the table. White curtains with green 
116 


RE-CREATIONS 


117 


stencilling! That was it! And Carey’s room should be 
painted white, walls and ceiling and all. She would set 
him at it as soon as he finished the fireplace, and then she 
would stencil little birds, or a more conventional pattern 
around the top of the walls for a border, in the same blue 
as the curtains. That would be a room to which he could 
bring home his friends. A picture or two well chosen,— 
she had the Lone Wolf in her trunk done in steel-blues, the 
very thing for one,—and an unbleached muslin bedspread 
and pillow roll also stencilled in blue. That would make 
a beautiful room. Then the bathroom, of course, must be 
all white, heavy white enamel. She saw where her money 
would go now, in pots of paint and brushes, and the work 
would take days, weeks; but it would be beautiful. She 
could see her dream before her, and was happy. 

She went downstairs, and found the fire out. That 
made delay. It was her own fault, of course; she had 
forgotten to look after it the last thing at night, and also 
everybody else had forgotten. Her father had gone to 
bed early with a neuralgic headache. He usually looked 
after the fire. Carey ought to have thought of it, but 
Carey never thought of anything but himself and his own 
immediate plans unless his interest was held. Cornelia 
found on looking for it in her haste that her stock of 
patience had run low; and added to this she had a stiff 
shoulder from washing windows, and Harry had a bad 
toothache, and had to hurry away to the dentist’s. Carey 
didn’t get up at all when he was called, and Louise and 
Cornelia had a rough time of it making some coffee for 


118 


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their father over the gas-flame. There was no time to 
wait for the fire, for father must catch his car at the regu¬ 
lar time, whether he had breakfast or not. When Louise 
had gone off to school, and Harry, returning redolent of 
cloves and creosote, had also been fed and comforted and 
sent off with an excuse to his teacher, Cornelia wanted to 
sit down and cry. Suddenly the whole thing seemed a 
house of cards. The sordid neighborhood became more 
sordid than ever, the house too dingy and hopeless for 
words, all her plans tawdry and cheap and useless. Why 
try, when the result to be attained at best would be but 
a makeshift of poverty ? 

To add to her misery, the morning mail brought letters 
of condolence from her classmates because she could not 
be with them at the play, and bits of news about how this 
and that were going wrong because she wasn’t there, and 
who was trying to take her place and bungling things. 

Suddenly Cornelia put her head down on the dining¬ 
room table in the midst of the breakfast clutter, and cried. 
She felt sorrier and sorrier for herself. Carey upstairs, 
great, big, lazy fellow, sleeping and letting her make the 
fire and do the work and carry the burden. He ought to 
be out hunting a job and helping to fill the family purse. 
He ought to be up and at his fireplace. She felt like 
going up and shaking him and telling him just how des¬ 
picable he was; and she wished she could shut up the house 
and go off all day somewhere, and have a good time. She 
was tired, and she loathed the thought of washing win- 


RE-CREATIONS 


119 


dows and scouring the floor and getting meals. Even 
stencilling curtains had lost its charm. 

She became ashamed of herself presently, remember¬ 
ing her mother and how many years she had done all these 
things and more. She dried her eyes and began to clear 
off the table. She had barely finished when she had a visi¬ 
tation from the woman next door, who came beaming 
in to see the curtains her husband had told her about, and 
to ask whether Cornelia minded her having blue birds on 
some of her curtains if she put them on the other side 
of the house. Somehow the woman’s eagerness to have her 
home made over into an artistic one melted away some of 
Cornelia’s gloom, and she was able to rise to the occasion 
and talk with her neighbor almost as enthusiastically as 
if she had been really interested. Perhaps she was inter¬ 
ested; she wasn’t sure. Anyway, it was going to be fun 
to get rid of ugly things in that woman’s house and sub¬ 
stitute simple, pretty ones. When Mrs. Barkley got up 
to go Cornelia thought she heard faint movements up in 
the third story, and took heart. When she opened the 
door to let her neighbor out, promising to run in some¬ 
time within a day or two and look over the rooms, the 
sun shot out from behind a grim cloud, and flooded the 
damp street with glory; and Cornelia began to feel better. 

Carey came down whistling, and twinkling with good 
humor; and she hadn’t the heart to give him the reprimand 
he richly deserved. She smiled a good morning, and he 
went at the kitchen range with a good will. 


120 


RE-CREATIONS 


They had an early lunch and breakfast together, and 
Carey went to work at his stonework once more. 

It was a trifle after two o’clock when Brand Barlock 
arrived on the scene. 

Carey was down cellar picking up the last stones and 
poking them through the opening he had cut in the parlor 
floor. He was making such a racket that he did not hear 
the insistent honk! honk! of the horn. But Cornelia 
polishing off the front window where some of the wet 
paper of the day before had stuck, did hear; and she looked 
out at the expensive car with a sinking heart. That must 
be Brand Barlock! But surely, surely Carey wouldn’t go 
off now in the midst of his work, when he was so anxious 
to finish! 

After several almost insolent honks of the horn, and 
imperious looks houseward, a boy in the back seat got 
out, received some brief instruction from the handsome 
youth who was the driver, and came and knocked at the 
door. Cornelia stepped into the hall, and opened the door. 

“Kay here ?” asked the boy. “Oh!” Seeing Cornelia, 
he dragged off his cap perfunctorily. 

The boy had a pleasant face, though weak; and 
Cornelia smiled. If this was one of Carey’s friends, she 
would know him sometime, and she must make a good 
impression upon him. She wanted the boys to come and 
see Carey rather than to always be carrying him off. 

“Why, yes, he’s here,” said Cornelia. “But he’s 
awfully busy. We’re getting settled, you know. Could 
I give him a message?” 


RE-CREATIONS 


121 


“Why, oh, yes! Tell him Brand Barlock wants him. 
Tell him he wants him right away quick, please. Brand’s 
in an awful hurry.” 

If he had said, “The President of the United States 
is here, and wants to see Carey,” he could not have given 
the order more loftily. 

Cornelia turned doubtfully. She wanted to resent 
this imperious tone; but perhaps Carey wouldn’t like it, 
and, after all, boys were—well, just boys. When they 
were at that age, they likely thought they were it. 

“I’ll tell him,” she said pleasantly. “Won’t you step 
in? We don’t look very nice here yet, but we hope to 
be ready to offer more hospitality to our friends soon.” 

The boy looked at her as if he was surprised to find 
her human. “Naw, thanks. I’ll stay here,” he replied, 
and tapped his foot impatiently. She gathered that Carey’s 
family meant nothing at all and less than nothing to this 
uninteresting youth; but she turned and went swiftly 
through the hall and the dining-room and down the cellar 
stairs rather than to call Carey through the opening in 
the floor. Carey might not care to see these friends of his 
in his present attire. 

“Gosh!” said Carey, looking down at his dishevelled 
self when she had told him. “Well, I s’pose I’ve got to 
go up. Can’t keep Brand waiting. Oh, gee! I thought 
I’d get this up through the floor today.” 

“But Carey,” cried his sister, putting out a detaining 
hand, “can’t I explain to him what you’re doing? Surely 
he will understand that you are busy and can’t come. Can’t 


RE-CREATIONS 


122 

I ask him to come down to you if he must see you now ? 
If he sees what you are doing, you won’t look so bad.” 

He stopped short in the cellar, and looked at her wither- 
ingly. 

“Ask Brand Bar lock to come down here? Well, I 
should say not!" 

“Why not?” she asked with unconscious scorn. “Is 
he as grand as all that? Who on earth is he, anyway?” 

But Carey was gone, taking the stairs three steps at 
a time. He was out at the car when his sister got back 
to her window, staying only a minute, and then tearing 
back and up the two flights of stairs to his room, while 
the car waited in front in grave importance. The sounds 
above stairs indicated that Carey was performing a hasty 
and tempestuous toilet. The water gushed in the bath¬ 
room in full force; and splashing, slamming doors, drop¬ 
ping shoes, hurrying footsteps, succeeded one another. 
The jamming of a bureau drawer, the dropping of a hair¬ 
brush, told his worried sister that Carey was “dressing 
up” and going somewhere. 

Cornelia climbed the stairs to remonstrate, but was 
prevented with a snort before she spoke. 

“Oh, doggone that collar button! That’s always the 
way when I’m in a hurry.” 

“Carey, are you—you’re not—” She stopped to gather 
breath, and began again, “Carey, is there anything I can 
do to help you?” 

“Only just get out of my way —please!” he roared as 


RE-CREATIONS 


123 


he tore past her down the stairs to the bathroom again and 
began to strop his razor furiously. 

She came downstairs slowly, trying to think what to 
do. Calamity of unnamed proportions loomed ahead, and 
she felt she must prevent it somehow. She paused in 
the hall. 

“Carey, is anything the matter ?” she asked anxiously. 

“There you are again, doggone it! Now you’ve made 
me cut myself, and I haven’t another collar. No, of course 
there isn’t anything the matter. I’m just in a hurry, 
can’t you see? They’re waiting for me!” 

“Well, but why are you so cross ?” 

“Aw! I’m not cross. I’m just nervous. Now, just 
look at that collar! It’s just like all my luck.” 

“I think your laundry came this morning,” volunteered 
his sister. 

“Well! Why didn’t you say so? Where is it?” 

“Look here, Carey,” she said with fire in her eye, 
“you have no need to be a bear; and, if you want me to 
get your collar, you’ll have to speak decently, or I won’t 
have anything more to do with you.” 

There was silence in the bathroom for the space of 
half a second; then an obviously controlled voice said: 

“Pardon me, Nell. I’m almost cr-r-azy. Can’t you 
see?” 

“Why, yes!” said his sister significantly, and went 
swiftly downstairs for the package of laundry. 

Carey was elaborately polite when she presented it, 
but he refrained, boy-like from telling her that he was 


134 


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going after a job he had heard about, which would have 
made the whole affair perfectly reasonable to her. “What 
business is it of hers?” he reasoned. “And then suppose 
I didn’t get it?” 

So he stormed from the house like a whirlwind, leav¬ 
ing no word of when he would return; and Cornelia was 
too much on her dignity to ask him. She stood at the 
window, watching him out of sight, the quick tears spring¬ 
ing into her eyes. What a boisterous, gay bunch they 
were, all of them, piling into the car, which started even 
before they were in. What a noise the car made, as if 
it too had partaken of the spirit of its owner and went 
roaring through the world with a daredevil blare and 
throb of a perverted fire-engine just to attract attention 
and show the world they didn’t care! Her cheeks grew 
hot with shame over it, and for some strange reason her 
imagination conjured up a possible day in the future when 
that fair lady, her fellow traveller of the other day, with 
her handsome son should perhaps come to call upon her. 
How terrible to have it happen when her brother would 
go roaring away from the house in this wild fashion! 
Oh, how had Carey ever grown into such a person? So 
impossible a combination! 

She came and stood beside the yawning hole in the 
parlor floor. How hard he had worked. How much in 
earnest he had been! And then at a snap of the finger 
from this young lord of creation he had dropped it all 
and fled on some fool whim or other, who knew? 

She felt sick and utterly tired, and as if she could 


RE-CREATIONS 


1&5 


not go on with her own work. She had just dropped 
into a chair and covered her face with her hands when 
there came a knock at the door. For an instant she medi¬ 
tated not noticing it, but, thinking better of it, hastily 
brushed her hand across her wet eyes and hurried to answer 
the knock. 

It was her carpenter, tall and smiling, with a kit of 
tools and a big window-frame on a wheelbarrow just 
behind him. 

“Well, I brought one along fer you to see,” he said, 
stooping to lift the frame and bring it in. “They said 
you could have 'em fer two and a half apiece, and I thought 
that was reasonable. Now, where was it you wanted ’em? 
There’s four or five available. You can take as many 
as you want and leave the rest, and there’s a bay like I 
was telling you. He says he 11 make it five, ’cause he wants 
to get it out of the way. It has these here di’mon panes. 
It’s real pretty like.” 

Cornelia had stood back aghast at sight of the window- 
frame ; but, when she heard the price, she opened the door 
wide, and forgot all her troubles for the moment. 

“Oh, how wonderful!” she said, her eyes shining. 
“Come in. Could you—you couldn’t—put it in now?” 

“Why, yes, that’s what I come fer, if you want it 
done. Course I don’t want to force it on you, but I 
thought you could tell if it would do. We quit early to¬ 
day, ’count of being all done at one place and not wanting 
to begin another till Monday cause the stuff ain’t come yet; 
so I just thought to me I’d bring my tools and work all 


m 


RE-CREATIONS 


day tomorrow and Saturday,—course that’s a half, but 
then— And, if you wanted, I’d go at this job right off. 
I oughtta be able to get this winder in by dark. Of course 
that’s working after union hours, but this here don’t count, 
being right next door home, you know; it’s kind of a favor 
to a neighbor, see ? I brought the sash and all; its stand¬ 
ing just outside, against the house. Now, you want these 
one each side the fireplace, don’t you?” 

Cornelia drew a deep breath of daring and said, “Yes 1” 
and then suddenly was glad—just a little—that Carey had 
been called away. Now she could surprise the whole family. 

With her heart in her mouth she stood by the open 
parlor door, and watched a great hole arrive in the blank 
wall, and then with a breath of relief turned and sped 
quickly upstairs to make up for lost time and to put 
the rooms there in order. It would soon be time for the 
children to come home from school. How surprised they 
would be! She knew she could count on both of them 
to be delighted; but she wished it had been possible for 
that window to be in before they arrived, it would be 
such fun to surprise them with it. Then she glanced out 
the window, and saw a little girl coming in the gate; and 
she hurried down to the door to see what was wanted. 

“Why,” began the small maiden, “your sister Lou said 
to tell you she ner Harry wouldn’t be home till late. She 
said they had to practise that play fer the entertainment. 
She said you needn’t to worry. She said to tell you Harry 
had telephoned to the store, and it’s all right.” 

“Oh, thank you!” said Cornelia with a pleased smile. 


RE-CREATIONS 


127 


Now there would be something done to show them when 
the children got home. How nice that the rehearsal should 
happen today! She had almost forgotten her disappoint¬ 
ment about Carey in her desire to surprise the family. 

The man went right at the work, and she could see 
in five minutes that he was interested and was no laggard. 
In half an hour they had located the window, and he had 
half of the opening sawed out. Cornelia went back to 
the kitchen to get some neglected cooking under way; and, 
when she returned, he was fitting the window-frame. She 
looked around the little room with delight. What a dif¬ 
ference it was going to make to have light and air from 
that side! She slipped happily back to her work again, 
and the sound of the saw and hammer was like music to 
her soul. There was no longer any doubt whether she 
ought to have waited. Now and then the thought of 
Carey hurt through her brain like a sting of something 
sharp, but she soothed herself by making custard pies for 
supper. Carey liked custard pies, and while she was mak¬ 
ing them it seemed easier to believe he would return in 
time for the evening meal. 

, At a quarter to six the carpenter went home. He had 
finished putting in the window, and had marked out the 
place for the other one. He had also ripped off the base 
boards on the parlor side of the wall that was to come 
down, and had taken off the trim of the door-frame. It 
began to look like business. He promised to come in the 
morning and bring the I beam and the other window. As 
he had to go to his boss's shop for them, she had no feau 


128 


RE-CREATIONS* 


he would arrive before her family were away. So with 
a gleeful glance at the new window Cornelia carefully 
closed the parlor door, and turned the key in the lock, 
putting it into her pocket. If the family questioned, she 
would say that she thought it safer to keep it locked lest 
some one might forget in the dark and fall into that open 
fireplace hole. Then, hugging her secret to her heart, she 
hurried back to get her dinner ready to serve. 

The children came tumbling joyously into the side 
door, both talking at once about the play and demanding 
to know how much Carey had got done on the fireplace, 
and their father smiling behind, interested in all—but 
Carey had not come yet! 


CHAPTER XI 


The children found out at once that Carey had gom 
with Brand, and a gloom settled over the little household. 
Cornelia had no trouble in keeping them out of the parlor; 
they did not want to go in. Even Harry seemed oppressed, 
and broke out every few minutes while he ate his supper 
with, “Aw, gee! If I was a fella!” 

Cornelia suddenly roused to break the gloom that had 
fallen upon them. She looked at her younger brother 
with a cheery smile. 

“Well you will be some day. You are already, you 
know, really.” 

Harry looked up proudly, and met her appreciation 
with a glow. 

“I think,” said Cornelia thoughtfully, “that this would 
be a nice night to clean the kitchen, if you all could help.* 

“Clean the kitchen!” They looked up unenthusiasti¬ 
cally. <r Why, I thought you cleaned that the first day. 
It looked awfully nice,” said Louise. Somehow kitchens 
seemed uninteresting places. 

“Oh, but not really clean,” said Cornelia, taking a 
deep breath and trying to get courage for the evening, 
for she was already weary enough to rest; but she must 
do something to take the family mind off Carey and that 
locked parlor door if she wanted her plans to succeed. 

“I want to paint it all white, walls and ceiling and wood¬ 
work; and then I want to paint the floor gray, and put 
e "m 


130 


RE-CREATIONS 


that waterproof varnish on it so it will wash up easily. 
Those boards are very hard to keep clean the way they 
ar§ and show every grease-spot. Did you ever 
paint Harry?” 

“Oh sure. I painted the porch down to the grocery, 
and the hen-house, and all around the window-sills for 
Mrs. Brannon. I can paint. Got any brushes ?” 

“Yes, I got one for each of us the other day, and a can 
of paint to be ready when there was time. Then, father 
I wonder if you couldn’t put up some brackets, and fix 
those old marbles for me.” 

“Marbles ?” 

“Yes, those old marbles that came off the wash-stand 
and bureau that fell to pieces. They are out in the back 
shed, and I want one of them put on the dresser, screwed 
on, you know, so I can use it for a molding-board, and 
the other two, the back and top of the old wash-stand put 
up on brackets for shelves in the kitchen, near the sink. 
They’ll save buying oilcloth, and be lovely to work on, 
and simply delightful to clean.” 

“Why, I guess I can fix them. There’s an old marble- 
topped table around somewhere, too.” 

“I know; I’m going to paint the wood-work white, 
and get some ball-bearing casters for it, and use it in 
the kitchen to work on. Then I can wheel it around where 
I need it, over by the sink when I’m washing dishes, over 
by the stove to hold the bowl of batter when I’m 
baking cakes.” 

“Say, that’ll be great!” cried Louise. “Oh! I never 


RE-CREATIONS 


131 


realized a kitchen could be pretty. Why, I’d like to wash 
dishes in a place like that—all white! Say, Nellie, is that 
a part of interior decorating? Kitchens?” 

“Surely!” smiled the sister. “We want to make it 
pleasant where we have to work the most. Now let’s get 
these dishes out of the way first, and then you children 
put on your oldest clothes, something that won’t be hurt 
with the paint; and we’ll go to work.” 

“You ought to have one of those ’lectric dish-washers, 
Nell,” said Harry energetically, getting up with a pile of 
dishes and starting toward the kitchen. “They got one 
down to the store on exhibition. Say, it’s great! You 
just stick ’em in, and they come out all washed and dried. 
I’ll buy you one some day when I get ahead a little.” 

“Do,” said Cornelia warmly, smiling. “That would 
be wonderful!” 

And so in the bustle and eagerness the disappointment 
over Carey was somewhat forgotten. They all worked 
away happily together until ten o’clock, painting and pound¬ 
ing and scrubbing; and, when they finally put up the 
brushes and went to bed, the kitchen was in a fair way 
toward reconstruction. The window-frames had lost their 
grimy, years-old green paint under a first coat of white; 
the doors had been sandpapered and primed; the side 
walls had been patched with plaster-of-Paris and re¬ 
ceived a coat of shellac. Everything began to look clean 
and hopeful. 

\ “Aw, gee! Carey don’t know what he’s missin’,” 
mourned Harry as he climbed reluctantly up the stairs, 


132 


RE-CREATIONS 


loath to leave till he had finished all the first coat, and 
persuaded to bed by his sister only on the ground that 
he wouldn’t want to get up in the morning. 

For three days Carey stayed away without a sign, and 
for two evenings Cornelia kept her family interested in 
the kitchen so that they did not notice the locked par¬ 
lor door. 

It was a bit hard on Cornelia. She worked steadily 
all day, then worked again all the evening, and lay awake 
most of the night worrying about her brother. She was 
beginning to get dark circles under her eyes, and her father 
looked at her anxiously and asked her whether she didn’t 
think she was doing too much. But she managed to smile 
cheerfully and keep a brave front. She knew by the weary 
little wrinkles around his eyes that he too was lying awake 
nights, worrying about Carey. But the kitchen was begin¬ 
ning to take on the look of a lily, and was rapidly becom¬ 
ing a spot where the family loved to go and gaze around, 
so transforming is a little white paint. 

Later on the second afternoon Cornelia went to a 
telephone pay-station, and looked among the B’s for Bar- 
lock. When she had found it, she called up the one with the 
initials R. B., taking a chance between that and Peter, 
Mary, Silas, and J. J., tremblingly put in her nickle, and 
waited. It was a young girl’s voice, fresh and snappy, 
that answered her; for she had called the residence and not 
the business office; and she tried to control her voice and 
answer calmly as she asked whether Mr. Brand Barlock 
was at home. The girl’s voice at the other end was a 


RE-CREATIONS 


133 


trifle haughty as she answered: “No, he’s motored down 
to Baltimore. I don’t know when he’ll be home. Maybe 
two or three days. Who is this ?” 

“Oh,” said Cornelia a trifle relieved, “then I’ll call 
again,” and hung up the receiver in the face of the re¬ 
peated question, “Who is this ?” Her cheeks were glow¬ 
ing as she emerged from the telephone-booth and hastened 
out to the street as if she were afraid some one would 
chase her. That was likely Brand Barlock’s sister on the 
telephone, and Cornelia had appeared to her like a bold 
girl calling up her brother and then retreating without 
giving her name; but it had been the only way. At least, 
she knew this much, that Brand also was still away. Carey 
was likely safe; that is, probably nothing had happened to 
his body, though there was no telling what had happened 
to his soul on such a wild trip with such companions. 

But the third day the carpenter took down the parlor 
partition, and threw the hall and parlor into one; and 
Cornelia could no longer conceal the interesting changes 
that had been going on within the old front room. 

There was a fine big window each side of the big fire¬ 
place hole, with a box window-seat under it, and the little 
“bay” had been put into the long, dark wall of the hallway, 
with a row of three diamond-paned windows opening 
just over the staircase. Cornelia had managed to conceal 
the first bay window, which had been put in the second 
day, by means of an old curtain tacked across the wall. 
But, when the third night came, there stood the big new 
room with all its windows, a place of great possibilities. 


154 


RE-CREATIONS 


“Now,” said the carpenter as he stood back and sur¬ 
veyed his finished task, “there's just two more things I’d 
like to see you do to this room. You need to break that 
there staircase with a landin' about four steps up. You got 
plenty-a room this side yer dining-room door, an’ 'twould 
jest strike them three winders fer the landin'. They got 
a half-circle an' two long, narrer side winders down to 
the shop would jest fit around that there front door. Ef 
you say the word, I'll put ’em in tomorra. I jest about 
could do it in a day. But I’d like to turn them stairs 
around. I certainly would.” 

So with fear and trembling Cornelia told him to go 
ahead. He assured her she needn’t worry about the pay, 
that his mother-in-law and his two cousins' wives all 
wanted curtains; and it began to look as if she would be 
stencilling birds the rest of her natural life; so she had no 
fear but she would be able to pay him sometime. She was 
getting five dollars a set for her curtains, and felt quite 
independent. Perhaps, after all, she would be an interior 
decorator some day, even if this was a day of small things, 
scrim curtains instead of rich fabrics and rare hangings. 

That night, when the children came home, they dis¬ 
covered the changes in the front part of the house, of 
course; and their sister found them standing in awe on 
the stairs looking about them as if they had suddenly 
stepped into a place of enchantment. 

“O Nellie, Nellie, how did you do it?” they cried when 
they saw her. “Isn’t this great? Isn’t it wonderful?” 
And then, with a look at the yawning cavity in the floor 


RE-CREATIONS 


135 


where the fireplace was to be: “Oh what will Carey say? 
,Why doesn’t he come home?” 

And that night after they were all in bed Carey came. 

Even the children heard the car drive up to the door, 
and the whole little shabby house seemed to be straining 
every alert nerve to listen. 

Carey came whistling a jazzy little tune up the path, 
with a careless happy-go-lucky swag, not at all like the 
prodigal son that he was, with the whole family in a 
long three days’ agony over him. It was almost virtuous, 
that whistle and the way he subdued it as he unlocked the 
dining-room door and groped his way through the dark 
to where the foot of the stairs used to be. They heard 
him strike a match; and then, as if they had all been down 
there to watch him, they could visualize his amazed face 
as he stood in the little halo of the match, and looked 
around him at the strange room, and the strange stair¬ 
case with a turn in the stairs and only one rail up yet, and 
a platform. They heard him strike another match, and 
then they heard his footsteps and more matches as he 
walked around looking. Cornelia knew when he sighted 
the bay window and the seats under the two windows 
by the fireplace. She heard the gentle thud of the top 
as he opened it and closed it again. She heard the soft 
whistle of approval, and drew a long breath of relief. 
At least he was interested. 

She knew that the little sister heard too and was fol¬ 
lowing Carey’s every movement; for she felt the quick 
grip of the little hand on her shoulder, and the soft, tense 


1S6 


RE-CREATIONS 


breath against her cheek; and somehow it gave her cour¬ 
age and strength. With all the family united in loving anxi¬ 
ety for him, surely, surely Carey would be saved and made 
a good man. She found herself praying again: “O God, 
reach him, save him, show him! Help us to know what 
to do for him." 1 

Afterwards she thought about it, and wondered at her¬ 
self, and resolved to pray regularly again, even if just to 
pray for Carey. It was so necessary that Carey be saved 
and made a good man. It was necessary just for their 
mother’s sake, and it must be done before she came home, 
or she would be likely to get sick again worrying about him. 

Carey came slowly up the stairs, and went to his room. 
The family listened to his movements overhead, listened 
for his shoes to fall, and then to the creak of the springs 
as he at last got into bed. Listened longer as the springs 
continued to creak while Carey rolled around, settling 
himself—thinking, perhaps?—and then at last when all 
was still they slept. 

It was well for Carey that a night intervened between 
his home-coming and the meeting with his family. The 
sharp words that swelled in the heart of each of them, and 
would surely have arisen to the lips of them, would not 
have been pleasant for him to hear. They might have 
been salutary; they undoubtedly would have been true; 
but it is exceedingly doubtful whethei in his present state 
of mind he would have endured them graciously. He 
had had a good time, and he had come home. He was in 
no mood for fault-finding. The sight of the unfinished 


RE-CREATIONS 


137 


fireplace in the wide desolation of the renovated and en¬ 
larged room had given him a good-sized pang of remorse 
which was in a fair way to stay with him for a day or so. 
Sharp words would most certainly have dispelled it in¬ 
stantly and put him on the defensive. To blame as he 
undoubtedly was, he preferred to blame himself rather 
than to have his family do so; and the fact that he arose 
before light, before any of the others were even awake, 
and descended to the cellar quietly to pursue his interrupted 
work proved that he had begun to apprehend the likeli¬ 
hood of blame and wished to forestall it. 

It was Harry who awoke first, feeling rather than 
hearing the dull thuds of the silent worker in the cellar. 
Hastily dressing, he stole down in wonder and delight, 
and was so well pleased with what he saw and with the 
most unusually cordial greeting from his elder brother 
that he remained to help and not to blame. When Louise 
came down, followed almost immediately by Cornelia, 
and found the two brothers working so affably, with a 
whole row of stones reared in the parlor, they gave one 
another a swift, understanding glance, and greeted their 
brothers collectively and joyously as if nothing had hap¬ 
pened for the last four days. 

Carey rattled off jokes, and worked away like a beaver, 
keeping them all in roars of laughter; and the father, wak¬ 
ing late from his troubled sleep, heard the festive sound, 
and hurried down, relieved that the cloud of gloom had 
lifted from his home. He had had it in mind to give 
Carey a regular dressing down when he returned. Words 


138 


RE-CREATIONS 


fitly framed for such a proceeding had been forming red- 
hot in his worried mind all night. But the sight of his 
four children in gales of laughter over some silly little 
story Carey had told, and the sight of the clock hastening 
on to the moment of his car, restrained him; and perhaps 
it was just as well. Cornelia hurried him into his place, 
and gave him his breakfast, chattering all the time about 
the rooms and the changes, and so kept his mind busy. 
At last they all got away without a word of reproof to 
Carey, and Cornelia was left to wonder whether she ought 
to open the subject. 

All the morning they worked eagerly together, finding 
personal conversation impossible because of the presence 
of the carpenter. At lunch time, however, Carey, having 
been most courteous and apologetic, seemed to feel his 
time had come. Or perhaps he appreciated his sister’s 
silence. At any rate, he remarked quite casually that he 
had been out for a job in Baltimore, and hadn’t got it, 
worse luck! Missed the man he went to see by half an 
hour, but had a dandy time. 

Cornelia took the news quietly, thoughtfully, and pres¬ 
ently raised her eyes. 

“Carey, dear, next time you go wouldn’t you be good 
enough to tell us where you are going and how long you 
expect to be gone? You’ve given us all an extremely 
anxious time, you know.” 

She managed to make her voice quiet and matter-of- 
fact, without the least bit of fault-finding; for a black cloud 
hovered almost imperceptibly over the handsome young 


RE-CREATIONS 


139 


brows across the table, and she had no mind to spoil 
the pleasant atmosphere that had surrounded them all 
the morning. 

“The idea!” said Carey, excited at once. “Why should 
I do that? I’m not a baby, am I? I’m a man, ain’t I? 
Disabuse yourself at once of the notion that I’m in lead¬ 
ing-strings. I guess I can go as far as I like, and stay as 
long as I like, can’t I?” 

“Yes, you can, of course,” soothed his sister. “But, 
if you really are a man, you’ve noticed how gray and worn 
father looks. How sick he looks! He’s been through a 
lot, you know; and he can’t help thinking that maybe some¬ 
thing else dreadful is coming. He has to worry for 
himself and mother too, you know. Because just now 
everything is very critical on mother’s account. I know 
you wouldn’t want to worry mother, and you wouldn’t 
want to worry father, either, if you just stopped to think.” 

“Well, but how absurd! A trip down to Baltimore that 
any fella would take. You aren’t such a goose as to worry 
over that, are you ?” 

“Of course it is a bit silly,” admitted the sister; “but 
I must confess I lay awake several hours every night my¬ 
self. You remember you had just got done telling me 
what a wild driver that Brand Barlock is, and how he 
put ether in the mixture. And one can’t help knowing 
there are hundreds of terrible automobile accidents every 
day. They might happen even to a man, you know; and 
then—well we love you, Carey, you know.” 


140 


RE-CREATIONS 


“Oh, gosh! Well, I didn’t know you were that sort 
of a goose. I know of course mother—but then she 
isn’t here.” 

“Well, when it comes down to it, Carey I guess we 
all care about as much as mother.” She smiled at him 
through a sudden mist of tears that all unexpectedly welled 
into her eyes. “And you know it was quite sudden, and 
well, if you had just thought to telephone, you know, to say 
you would be gone several days.” 

“Aw, gee! Well, I suppose I might have done that. I 
will next time. Sure, Nell, I’ll try to remember. It was 
kind of rank in me not to say anything, but I figured that, 
if I didn’t get it, no one would be the wiser.” 

“Well, I guess you can’t cheat your family.” She 
smiled again, ignoring the mist in her eyes. “We’re a 
kind of gang together; isn’t that what you call it? And 
what affects one affects all. Why, even little Louie cried 
herself to sleep in my arms last night because she thought 
maybe you had been killed.” 

“Aw! Gee!” 

Carey got up swiftly, and went over to the window, 
where he gazed out at the neighbor’s blank wall until he 
had control of himself; then he turned with one of his 
lightning smiles. 

“All right, Nell, I’ll give you the tip next time. I’m 
sorry I had to stay so long, but I waited for the man. See?” 

“Well, Carey, I suppose you thought that was the 
right thing to do, but I’ve been wondering since you’ve 
been talking whether there isn’t something good for you 


RE-CREATIONS 141 

in all this big city where we live without going away 
to Baltimore.” 

“I’d like to see it,” gloomily answered the boy, with 
a sudden grim look in his eyes. “I’ve tried everything I 
heard of.” 

“Well, it will come,” said his sister brightly. “Come, 
let’s get this house finished first, and then we’ll be ready 
for the big position you’re going to have. Next week, 
you know, you’ve got to go back to the garage and earn 
that suit. You need it badly.” 

Carey caught her suddenly, and gave her a bear-hug, 
and then spun her around the room till she was dizzy; and 
so, happily, they went back to their work, Cornelia won¬ 
dering whether she had done right to pass the matter off 
so lightly. But brother, as he worked away at his stones 
silently, was thinking more seriously on the error of his 
ways than he had thought for four years past 


CHAPTER XII 


It was several weeks before the Copley house was 
finished. Even then there were cushions to make out of 
old pieces brightened up by the stitches of embroidery or 
applique work of leaves cut from bits of old velvet. There 
were rugs to braid out of all the old rags the house afforded 
and there were endless curtains to wash and hem and hem¬ 
stitch and stencil and put up. All the family united to 
make the work as perfect a thing of the kind as could 
be accomplished. Every evening was spent in painting 
or papering, or rubbing down some bit of old furniture 
to make it more presentable, and gradually the house 
began to assume form and loveliness. 

Paint, white paint, had done a great deal toward mak¬ 
ing another place of the dreary little house. The kitchen 
was spotless white enamel everywhere, and enough old 
marble slabs had been discovered to cover- the kitchen 
table and the top of the kitchen dresser, and to put 
up shelves around the sink and under the windows. 
Mr Copley brought home some ball-bearing casters for 
the chen table, and spent an evening putting them 
on, it would move easily to any part of the kitchen 
needed. Cornelia and Louise rejoiced in scrubbing the 
smooth white surfaces that were going to be so con¬ 
venient and so easily kept clean. Even the old kitchen 
chairs had been painted white and enamelled, and Cornelia 
discovered by chance one day that a wet sponge was a 
142 


RE-CREATIONS 


143 


; 


wonderful thing to keep the white paint clean; so thereafter 
Louise spent five minutes after dinner every evening going 
about with her wet sponge, rubbing off any chance finger¬ 
marks of the day before and putting the gleaming kitchen 
in battle-array for the next day. 

The dining-room had gradually become a place of rest 
and refreshment for the eyes as well as for the palate. 
Soft green was the prevailing color of furniture and floor, 
with an old grass rug scrubbed back to almost its original 
color. The old couch was tinkered up and covered with 
gay cretonne in greens and grays, with plenty of pillows 
covered with the same material. The curtains were white 
with a green border of stencilling. The dingy old paper 
had been scraped from the walls, which had been painted 
with many coats of white; and a gay green border had 
been stencilled at the ceiling. The carpenter had found an 
old plate-rail down in the shop, which, painted white, made 
a different place of the whole thing, with a few bits of 
mothers’ rare old china rightly placed, two Wedgwood 
plates in dull yellow, another of bright green, a big old 
blue willow ware plate, some quaint cups hung on brass 
hooks under a little white shelf. One couldn’t ask for 
a pleasanter dining-room than that. It dawned upon the 
family anew and joyously every time any one of them 
entered the room, and made them a little better and a little 
brighter because it spoke “home” so softly and sweetly 
and comfortingly. 

“Mother won’t know the place!” said Louise, standing 
back to survey it happily after putting the sideboard in 


144 


RE-CREATIONS 


perfect order with clean linen cover. “She won’t know 
her own things, will she? Won’t it be great when 
she comes ?” 

But the living room was the crown of all, wide and 
pleasant and many-windowed, with its stone fireplace, wide 
mantel, adorned with a quaint old pair of brass candlesticks 
that had belonged to the grandmother; the walls covered 
with pale-yellow felt-paper like soft sunshine; the floor 
planed down to the natural wood, oiled and treated with 
shellac; and the old woolen rugs in two tones of gray, 
which used*to be bedroom rugs when Cornelia was a baby, 
washed and spread about in comfortable places; it no 
more resembled the stuffy, dark little place they used to 
call a “parlor” than day resembles night. Soft white 
sheer curtains veiled the windows everywhere, with over¬ 
curtains of yellow cotton crepe; and the sunshine seemed 
to have taken up its abode in that room even on dark days 
when there was no sun to be seem It was as if it had 
stayed behind from the last sunshinny day, so bright and 
cheerful was the glow. 

The little “bay” was simply overflowing with ferns 
the children had brought from the woods, set in superfluous 
yellow and gray bowls from the kitchen accumulation. 
Harry ran extra errands after hours, and saved enough 
to buy the yellowest, throatiest canary the city afforded, 
in a big wicker cage to hang in the window. 

Cretonne covers in soft gray tones covered the shabby 
old chairs and couch, and Carey and his father spent hours 
with pumice-stone and oil, polishing away at the piano, 


RE-CREATIONS 


145 


the bookcase, and the one small mahogany table that 
was left, while Cornelia did wonderful things in the 
way of artistic shades for little electric lamps that Carey 
rigged up in odd, unexpected corners, made out of all 
sorts of queer things; an old pewter sugar-bowl, this 
with a shade of silver lace lined with yellow, a relic of 
some college costume; a tall gray jug with queer blue 
Chinese figures on it that had been among the kitchen 
junk for years, this with a dull blue shade; a bright yellow 
vase with a butterfly-yellow shade; and a fat green jar 
with wallow basket-work around it on which Cornelia 
put a shade of soft green, with some old brown lace over it. 

The room was really wonderful when it was done, with 
two or three pictures hung in just the right spot, and some 
photographs and magazines thrown comfortably about. 
Really one could not imagine a pleasanter or more artistic 
room, not if one had thousands to spend. The first even¬ 
ing it was all complete the family just sat down and enjoyed 
themselves in it, talking over each achievement of cushion 
or curtain or wall as a great connoisseur might have looked 
over his newly acquired collection and gloated over each 
specimen with delight. 

Carey’s delight in it all was especially noticeable. He 
hovered around, getting new points of view, and changing 
the arrangement of a chair or a table, whistling wildly 
and gleefully, a new Carey to them all. For the whole 
evening he did not offer to go out, just hung around, talk¬ 
ing, singing snatches of popular songs, breaking into a 
clumsy two-finger “rag” on the piano now and then, and 
IQ 


146 


RE-CREATIONS 


finally ending up with a good ring with Cornelia at the 
piano. It was curious, but it was a fact that this was the 
first time Cornelia had had time since her home-coming 
to sit down and play for them; and it seemed like a revela¬ 
tion to all. They had not realized how well she could play, 
for she had been studying music part of the time in college. 
Also no one had realized how well Carey could sing. Per¬ 
haps he had never had half a chance with a good accom¬ 
paniment before. At any rate, it was very plain that he 
liked it, and would sing as long as any one would play 
for him. 

And the father liked it, too. Oh, how he liked it r He 
took off his glasses, put his head back on the new cretonne 
cushion, closed his eyes, and just enjoyed it. Now and then 
he would open his eyes and watch the flicker of the fire in 
the new fireplace, look from the one to the other of his 
children, sigh, and say, “I wish your mother were here 
now,” and again; “We must write mother about all this. 
How she will enjoy it!” 

Then right into the midst of this domestic scene there 
entered callers. 

Carey was singing when the knock came, and did not 
hear them; or else he would most surely have disappeared. 
It was a way Carey had. But the knock came twice before 
Louise heard it and slipped to the door, letting in the 
strangers, who stood listening at the door, motioning to 
her to wait until the song was finished. 

Then Mr. Copley saw them, and arose to come for¬ 
ward. Carey, feeling some commotion, turned; and the 


RE-CREATIONS 


147 


song stopped like a shot, a frown of defiance beginning to 
grow between his brows. 

The strangers were a man and a woman, and a young 
girl a little older than Louise and younger than Cornelia; 
and one could see at a glance that they were cultured, re¬ 
fined people, though they were quietly, simply dressed. 
Carey, in his gray flannel shirt open at the neck and the 
old trousers in which he had assisted in the last rites of 
putting the room in perfect order, looked down at himself 
in dismay, and backed precipitately around the end of the 
piano as far out of sight as possible, meeting the intruders 
with a glare of disapproval. Cornelia was the last to stop 
playing and look around, but by that time the lady 
had spoken. 

“Oh, please don’t stop! We want to hear the rest of 
the song. What a beautiful tenor voice!” 

Cornelia arose to her duties as hostess, and came for¬ 
ward ; but the man by this time was introducing himself. 

“I hope we haven’t intruded brother.” He grasped 
Mr. Copley’s welcoming hand. “I’m just the minister at 
the little church around your corner here, and we thought 
we’d like to get acquainted with our new neighbors. My 
name is Kendall, and this is my wife and my daughter 
Grace. I brought the whole family along because I under¬ 
stood you had some daughters.” 

“You’re very welcome,” said Mr. Copley with dignity 
that marked him a gentleman everywhere. “This is my 
daughter Cornelia; this is Louise, and Harry; and”—with 
an almost frightened glance toward the end of the piano, 


148 


RE-CREATIONS 


lest he might already have vanished—“this is my 
son Carey.” 

There was something almost proud in the way he spoke 
Carey’s name, and Cornelia had a sudden revelation of 
what Carey, the eldest son, must mean to his father in 
spite of all his sharpness to the boy. Of course Carey 
must have been a big disappointment the last few months. 

Carey, thus cornered, instead of bolting, as his family 
half expected of him, came forward with an unexpected 
grace of manner, and acknowledged the introduction, his 
eyes resting interestedly on the face of Grace Kendall. 

“I’m not very presentable,” he said. “But, as I can’t 
seem to get out without being seen, I guess you’ll have to 
make the best of me.” 

Grace Kendall’s eyes were merry and pleasant. 

“Please don’t mind us,” she said. “You look very 
nice. You look as if you had been playing tennis.” 

“Nothing so interesting as that,” said Carey. “Just 
plain work. We’re still tinkering around this house, get¬ 
ting settled, you know.” 

“There’s always such a lot to do when you move, isn’t 
there? But what a lovely spot you’ve made of it!” She 
turned, and looked about her. “Why, I shouldn’t know 
it was the same house. What a lot you have done to it! 
This room looks so big! How did you get the space? 
You’ve changed the -partitions, haven’t you? I used to 
come here to visit a little lame boy, and it was such a tiny- 
little front room; and now this is spacious! And that 
wonderful fireplace! Isn’t it beautiful?” 


RE-CREATIONS 


149 


“Yes/’ put in Mr. Copley, as the whole group seemed 
absorbed in gazing about them at the lovely room. “My 
son did that. He built it all himself.” 

Carey looked up in surprise, with a flush of pleasure 
at his father’s tone of pride; and then his eyes came back 
to the girl’s face all sparkling with eager admiration. 

“You don’t mean you did it yourself ? How perfectly 
wonderful! That darling mantel! and the way the chim¬ 
ney curves up to the ceiling! It lias charming lines! O 
father, can’t you coax him to come over and build one 
for us?” 

“Sure! I’ll build you one!” said Carey graciously, as 
though he kept stone fireplaces in his vest pocket. “Start 
tomorrow if you can get the stone.” 

“Oh, great! Just hear that, father! We’re going to 
have a fireplace! Now, don’t you let him off. Did you 
design it, Mr. Copley?” 

Carey lifted embarrassed eyes to his elder sister’s face, 
and met her look of loving pride, and flushed happily. 

“Why, no, I guess my sister Nell’s to blame for that. 
She suggested it first, and worked it out mostly,” he said. 

“Indeed, you did it all yourself, Carey,” said Cornelia. 
“I only wanted it, and Carey did the rest.” 

“Yes, Gracie, that’s where you’re lacking,” said the 
minister, laughingly; “you haven’t any brother to carry 
out your every wish. Only a busy old father, who doesn't 
know how.” 

“My father’s all right!” said the daughter loyally; and 
Carey with a swift, appraising glance decided that he 


150 


RE-CREATIONS 


certainly looked it and that for a minister it certainly was 
surprising. He had a faint passing wonder what this 
man’s church might be like. Then they settled down in 
groups to talk, Carey beside the minister’s daughter, Cor¬ 
nelia beside the minister’s wife, and Mr. Copley with the 
minister, while Harry and Louise sat down together in the 
window-seat to watch them all. 

“Doesn’t Carey look handsome ?” whispered the little 
girl, with her eyes on her elder brother. “My, but I guess 
he’s mad he didn’t put on his other shirt.” 

“I should say! Serves him right,” said Harry causti¬ 
cally, yet with a light of pride in his eye. “Say, she’s 
some bird, isn’t she ? Better’n that little chicken we saw 
him have out last Saturday!” 

“O Harry! You mustn’t call any girl a chicken. You 
know what mother would say.” 

“Well, she was a chicken, wasn’t she?” 

“I think I’d rather call her a—a fool!” said Louise 
expressively. 

“Call her what you like, only don’t call her at all!” 
said the boy. “Say, doesn’t our sister look great though ?” 

So they sat quietly whispering, picking up bits of the 
conversation and thinking their wise young thoughts. 

Mr. Copley’s face looked rested and happy. 

“My! I wish my wife were at home,” he said wist¬ 
fully. “You know she’s been very sick, and she’s away 
getting a rest. But we hope she’ll soon be back with us 
before many months now. How she would enjoy it to 
have you run in like this! She’s a great church woman, 


RE-CREATIONS 


151 


and she felt it, coming away from the church we have 
always attended over on the other side of the town-” 

Then the talk drifted to the little church around the 
corner, and to its various organizations and activities. 

“Father ’ll be after you for the choir,” confided the 
daughter to Carey; “a good tenor is a great find.” 

“No chance!” said Carey, looking pleased in spite of 
himself. “I can’t sing.” 

Then they all began to clamor for Carey to sing; and 
right in the midst of it there was another knock at the 
door, and in walked the carpenter and his wife. 

Carey began to frown, of course; for, although he 
liked the carpenter, he felt that he was of another social 
class from the delicate young girl who sat by his side; but 
when he saw her rise and greet the carpenter’s wife as 
cordially as if she were some fine lady, his frown began to 
disappear again. This certainly was a peach of a girl, and 
no mistake. In fact, the whole family were all right. The 
minister was a prince. Just look at the way he took that 
carpenter by the hand, and made him feel at home. 

The carpenter, however, didn’t seem to be troubled by 
embarrassment. He entered right into the conversation 
comfortably, and began to praise Cornelia Copley and her 
ability as an interior decorator; and before any one knew 
how it happened the company had started to see the din¬ 
ing-room and kitchen. 

Nobody realized it, but they were all talking and laugh¬ 
ing as if they had known one another for years, and 
everybody was having a happy time. When they came 


1 52 


RE-CREATIONS 


back to the living room, they insisted that Carey should 
sing and Cornelia should play for them. Harry and 
Louise whispered together for a moment, then slipped 
silently back to the kitchen while the music was going 
on, and returned in a few minutes with a tall pitcher of 
lemonade and a plate of Cornelia’s delicious gingerbread. 
Carey went for plates, and acted the host beautifully. It 
all passed off delightfully, even with the presence of the 
carpenter, who proved to be a good mixer in spite of 
his lack of grammar. 

Before they went away the minister had asked the 
brother and sister to join the choir and come to the Sun¬ 
day school and young people’s society and all the various 
other functions of the church, and had given a special 
urgent invitation to the whole family, including the callers, 
to come to a church reception to be held the coming week. 
Carey acted as if church receptions and young people’s 
prayer meetings were the joy of his life, and acquiesced 
in everything that was suggested r declaring, when the door 
closed behind them, that that girl was “some peach.” And 
the household retired to their various pillows with happy 
dreams of a circumspect future in which Carey walked 
the happy way of a wise young man and had friends that 
one was not ashamed of. And then the very next after¬ 
noon, being Saturday, everything went to smash in one 
quick happening, and a cloud of gloom fell over the 
little household. 

For it happened that Cornelia and Louise had taken 
an afternoon off, having arisen quite early and accom- 


RE-CREATIONS 


153 


plished an incredible amount of Saturday baking and 
mending and ironing and the like, and had gone down 
to the stores to choose a much-needed pair of shoes for 
Louise. The shoes were purchased, also ten cents’ worth 
of chocolates; and they were about to finish the joyful 
occasion by a visit to a moving-picture show when sud¬ 
denly, walking up Chestnut Street, they came face to 
face with Carey and a girl! Carey, who was supposed 
to be off that whole afternoon hunting for a job! And 
such a girl! 

The most noticeable thing about the girl was the white¬ 
ness of her nose and the rosiness of a certain circumscribed 
portion of her cheeks. As she drew nearer, one also noticed 
her cap-like arrangement of hair that was obviously stained 
henna, and bobbed quite furiously under a dashing hat 
of jade-green feathers. Her feet were fat, with fat, over¬ 
hanging flesh-colored silken ankles, quite transparent as 
to the silk, and were strapped in with many little buckles 
to a very sharp toe and a tall little stilt of a heel. Her 
skirt was like one leg of a pantaloon so tight it was and 
very short, so that the fat, silken ankles became most 
prominent; and her mincing gait reminded one of a Bach 
fugue. She wore an objectionable and conspicuous tunic 
much beaded with short sleeves and very low neck, for 
the street. 

A scrubby little fur flung across the back of her neck 
completed her costume unless one counted the string of 
big white beads that hung around her neck to her waist, 
and the many rings which adorned her otherwise bare 


154 


RE-CREATIONS 


hands. She was chewing gum rhythmically and indus¬ 
triously, and giggling up into Carey’s face with a silly, 
sickening grin that made the heart of Cornelia turn sick 
with disgust. 

As she drew nearer, a pair of delicately pencilled sta¬ 
tionary eyebrows, higher than nature usually places them, 
emphasized the whole effect; and the startling red of the 
girl’s lips seemed to fascinate the gaze. They were coming 
nearer; they were almost near enough to touch each other; 
and Carey—Carey was looking down at the girl—he had 
drawn her arm within his own, and he had not seen 
his sisters. 

Suddenly, without any warning Cornelia felt the angry 
tears starting to her eyes, and with a quick movement she 
drew Louise to a milliner’s window they were passing, and 
stood, trembling in every nerve, while Carey and the 
girl passed by. 


CHAPTER XIII 


Louise had given her sister one swift, comprehending 
look, and stood quietly enough looking into the window; 
but her real glance was sideways, watching Carey and 
the girl. 

“That’s the one! That’s the chicken, Nellie!” she 
whispered. “Now, isn’t she a chicken ? Don’t you think 
Harry is right? Turn around and watch her. They’ve 
gone ahead so far they’ll never see us now. Look! Just 
see her waddle! see her toddle! Aren’t those shoes the 
limit ? And her fat legs inching along like that! I think 
she’s disgusting! How can my brother not be ashamed 
to be seen with her ? And down here on Chestnut Street, 
too, where he might meet anybody! Think if that Grace 
Kendall should come along and see him! She’d never 
speak to him again. Oh, Nellie, isn’t she dreadful?” 

“Hush, dear! Somebody will hear you. Yes she’s 
pretty awful.” 

“But, Nellie, can’t we do something about it? Can’t 
Carey be ordered not to go with a thing like that any more ? 
Why, even the girls in my school are talking about them. 
They call her my brother’s girl! Nellie, aren’t you going 
to do anything about it ? Aren’t you going to tell father, 
and have it stopped?” 

“Hush, darling! Yes, I’m going to do something— 
but I don’t know what yet. I don’t know what there is 
to do.” 


155 


156 


RE-CREATIONS 


She tried to smile with her lips in a tremble; and, 
looking down, she saw that tears were rolling down the 
little sister’s cheeks. 

“Darling! Don’t do that!” she cried, roused out of 
her own distress. “Here, take my handkerchief, and 
brighten up a little. You mustn’t cry here; people will 
think something dreadful has happened to you.” 

“They can’t think any worse than it is,” murmured 
Louise, snubbing off a sob with the proffered handker¬ 
chief. “To have my nice, handsome big brother be a big 
fool like that! Oh, I’d like to kill that girl! I would! I’d 
like to choke her!” 

“Louie! Stop! This is awful!” cried Cornelia, hor¬ 
rified. “You mustn’t talk that way about anybody, no mat¬ 
ter how much of a fool she is. Perhaps there’s another 
side to it. Perhaps Carey is just as much to blame. Per¬ 
haps the girl doesn’t know any better. Maybe she has 
no mother to teach her. Maybe Carey is sorry for her.” 

“He—didn’t look sorry; he looked glad!” murmured 
the little girl, trying to bring her emotions into control; 
“and anyhow I can’t help hating her. Even if she hasn’t 
got a mother, she doesn’t need to dip her face in a flour- 
barrel like that, and make eyes at my brother.” 

“Listen, Louie.” Cornelia’s voice was very quiet, and 
she felt a sudden strength come to her from the need to 
help the little girl. “Dear, it won’t do any good to hate 
her; it will only do you harm, and mix us up so we can’t 
think straight. Besides, it’s wicked to hate anybody. Sup¬ 
pose you stop being so excited and let us put some good 


RE-CREATIONS 


157 


common sense into this thing. There must be a way to 
work it out. If it’s wrong for Carey to go with her, there 
will be a way somehow to make him see it. Until Carey 
sees it himself there isn’t a bit of use in our trying to 
stop his going with her. He probably has got to the place 
where rouge and powder are attractive to him, or else 
perhaps there is more to the girl than just the outside. 
At any rate, we’ve got to find out what it is about her 
that attracts our brother. And, Louie, do you know I’ve 
a notion that there’s nobody but God can help us in this 
thing? Mother used to say that, you know, when any 
big trouble came; and several times lately when I’ve been 
worried about things I’ve said, ‘O God, help me,’ and 
things have seemed to straighten out right away. Sup¬ 
pose you and I try that tonight.” 

Louise looked up through her tears, and smiled. 

“You’re an awfully dear sister, Nellie. I’m glad you 
came home”; and she squeezed her sister’s hand tenderly. 

“Thank you, lovey; I’m glad I came too, and you’re 
rather dear yourself, you know, Lou. I think we’ll come 
through somehow. Now shall we go into this pic¬ 
ture-show ?” 

“I don’t believe I feel much like it, do you, Nellie?” 
said the little girl, hesitatingly and studying a picture on the 
bill-board outside the theatre. “Look! That’s one of 
those pictures with cabaret stuff in that daddy doesn’t 
like us to see. I don’t want to go in. Those girls in that 
picture make me think of her.” 

“I’ll tell you what; let’s go home and get a good dinner 


158 


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for Carey and the rest, and perhaps we can think of a 
way to keep him home tonight and have a good time.” 

So home they went, and got the dinner, and waited ( 
half an hour after the usual time; but no Carey appeared 
that night until long after the midnight hour had struck. 
When at last he came tiptoeing up the creaking stairs, 
trying not to arouse anybody in the house, his two sisters 
lay hand in hand listening and both praying, “O God, 
show us how to keep Carey away from that girl, and make 
him a good man.” 

Carey slept late on Sunday morning, and came down 
cross, declining utterly to go to church. Cornelia and 
Louise went off alone sorrowfully. Carey had lounged off 
in the direction of the drug store, and the father had a 
nervous headache, and decided to nurse it up lest it keep 
him away from work on the morrow. Harry volunteered 
to stay home and get dinner. 

The sermon was about prayer, very simple and inter¬ 
esting. Cornelia did not remember having listened to 
many sermons in her life. Somehow this one seemed 
unique, and struck right home to her need and experience. 
The preacher said that many people prayed and did not 
receive because they had failed to meet the conditions 
of answered prayer. Even Louise sat up and listened witlv 
earnest eyes and flushed cheeks. Here was something she 
felt would help the Copley family if they could only get 
hold of the secret of it. Mother prayed, and Mother had 
great faith in prayer; but none of the rest of them had 
ever specialized along those lines. Unless perhaps father 


RE-CREATIONS 


159 


did, quiet father with all his burdens and disappointments. 

These thoughts flitted through the minds of the two 
daughters as they sat listening intently, reaching out for 
the help they needed. The preacher said that there were 
many promises in the Bible concerning prayer, but always 
with a condition. The first was faith. One must believe 
that God hears and will answer. The second was will- 
surrender. One must be ready to let God answer the 
prayer in His way, and to leave that way to Him, believing 
that He will do what is best. Then one must pray with a 
free heart, out of which hate and sin have been cast; and 
he quoted the verse: “If thou bring thy gift to the altar, 
and there rememberest that thy brother hath aught against 
thee, leave there thy gift before the altar, and go thy way; 
first be reconciled to thy brother, and then come and offer 
thy gift.” 

Louise cast a fleeting, questioning glance toward her 
sister. Did that mean that she must forgive that hateful, 
bold Dodd girl? But the speaker went on. 

There were gifts for which one may ask with a definite 
assurance of receiving if one comes asking with all the 
heart, namely, the forgiveness of sin, the strength to resist 
temptation, the gift of the Holy Spirit. And one may al¬ 
ways be sure that it is God’s will that other souls should 
be saved, and so we can pray always for others’ salvation, 
knowing that we are not asking amiss. 

But there is a condition in which it is the privilege of 
every child of God to live, in which one may be sure of 
receiving what one asks, “If ye abide in me, and my words 


160 RE-CREATIONS 

abide in you, ye shall ask what ye will, and it shall be done 
unto you.” 

The two sisters listened most carefully to the 
simple, clear description of the life that is hid with Christ 
in God, the life that lets Christ live instead of trying to 
please self, and that studies daily the Word of God and 
keeps the word constantly in mind. And the preacher 
spoke with confidence about answers to prayer for daily 
needs, as if he had known great experience in receiving. 

On their way home Louise, walking along with her 
eyes on the sidewalk, asked shyly. 

“Nellie, do you s’pose that’s all true, what he preached 
about?” 

“Why, yes—of course,” said the elder sister, hesitat¬ 
ing, scarcely knowing whither her words were leading 
her; “why, certainly,” she added with belated conviction 
and a sense that, if it were so, she had placed herself in a 
very foolish position; for she had never lived as if she 
had believed it, and the little sister must know thai. 

“Well, then,” with the quick conclusion of childhood, 
“why do we worry? why don’t we do it?” 

“We—could,” said her sister thoughtfully; “I don’t 
know why we never did. I guess we never thought about 
it. Shall we try it ?” 

“It won’t do to try it,” said the matter-of-fact little 
girl, “because he said we had to believe it, you know; and 
trying is holding on with one hand and watching to see. 
We’ve got to walk out with both feet and trust. I’m 
going to!” 


RE-CREATIONS 


161 


“Well, so will I,” said Cornelia slowly, her voice low 
and almost embarrassed. It seemed a strange topic to 
be talking about so familiarly with a little girl, her little 
stranger-sister; but she could not let the child get ahead of 
her. She could not dash the bright spirit of faith. 

“That’s nice,” said Louise with satisfaction. “I’ll 
tell Harry too. I guess he will; boys are so funny. I 
wish he’d been in church. But say, Nellie, we can be happy 
now, can’t we? We don’t need to worry about Carey 
any more; we can just pray about it and it will all 
come right.” 

Cornelia smiled, and squeezed the little hand nestling 
in hers. 

“I guess that’s what we’re expected to do,” she said 
thoughtfully. 

“Yes, and I think God’ll show you what to do about 
that—that—chicken girl, too, don’t you, if you ask Him?” 

“I guess He will.” 

The whole family, of course excepting Carey, who 
telephoned that he wouldn’t be home till late, went to 
church that night, and lingered to be introduced to 
some of the church people by the cordial minister who 
had come down to the door to detain them. They finally 
went home cheered in heart both by the earnest spiritual 
service and by the warm Christian fellowship that had been 
offered them. 

That night as Louise nestled into her pillow, she 

whispered: 

11 


162 


RE-CREATIONS 


“Nellie, have you been shown yet? I mean anything 
about Carey and that girl.” 

Cornelia drew the little girl into her arms, and laid 
her lips against the warm, soft cheek. 

“Pm not quite sure, dear,” she answered. “I’ve been 
thinking. Perhaps it will seem queer to you, but I’ve 
almost come to think perhaps we ought to get to know her.” 

“Oh-h-h!” doubtfully. “Do you really think so? But 
she’s—why, she’s just awful , sister!” 

“I know, dear, and I’m not sure yet. But you see we 
can’t do a thing till we really get acquainted with her. 
She may be simply silly, and not know any better. She 
may not have any mother, or something; and perhaps 
we could help her, and then, if we get acquainted with her, 
we would perhaps be able to make Carey see somehow. 
Or else we might help her to be—different.” 

“Oh-h! But how could we get acquainted with her?” 

“Well, I don’t know. We’d have to think that up. 
Do you know her name?” 

“Yes, it’s Clyde Amabel Dodd. They call her Clytie, 
and it makes me sick the way they say it. She—she smokes 
cigarettes, Nellie!” 

\ “She does!” exclaimed Cornelia. “Are you sure, dear? 
How do you know?” 

“Well, Hazel Applegate says she saw her on the street 
smoking with a lot of boys.” 

There was a long pause, and the little girl almost 
thought her sister was asleep; then Cornelia asked, “Do 
you know where she lives?” 


RE-CREATIONS 


16$ 


“No, but I guess Harry does. He gets around a lot 
delivering groceries, you know. Anyway, if he doesn’t, 
he can find out.” 

“Well, I’ll have to think about it some more—and— 
pi ay, too.” 

“Nellie.” 

“Well, dear?” 

“Nellie, you know that verse the minister said this 
morning about if two of you agree to pray for anything 
you know; why couldn’t you and I do that?” 

Cornelia pressed the little fingers close. Then it was 
all very still, and presently the two slept. 

The next afternoon, while they were getting dinner 
and working about in the kitchen, the older sister sud¬ 
denly asked: 

“When is Carey’s birthday? Isn’t it this week? The 
twenty-fifth, isn’t it?” 

“Yes,” said Louise gravely. “It’s Thursday. Are you 
going to do anything? O Nellie!” in consternation. 
“You’re not going to invite that girl thent” 

“I don’t know,” said Cornelia. “I know it wouldn’t 
be very pleasant for us, but I thought perhaps it would 
be a good excuse. There isn’t really any other that 
I know of.” 

The little girl was silent for a moment. 

“Wouldn’t it make her think we thought—I mean 
wouldn’t she get a notion we liked—That is, wouldn’t 
she be awfully set up—and think we wanted her to go 
with Carey?” 


164 


EE-CREATIONS 


“I’m sure I don’t know, dear, and I don’t suppose that 
part of it really matters if we just get this thing sifted down 
and find out what we’ve got to do. We simply can’t say 
anything about her to Carey till we’ve somehow come in 
contact with her in his presence, or he will think we’ve 
been snooping about watching him; and he will just be 
angry and go with her all the more.” 

“I know,” sighed the little girl. 

“If we have her here,” went on the older sister thought¬ 
fully, “we’ll at least know what they both are doing; and, 
if she doesn’t act nicely, we’ll have some ground to in¬ 
fluence Carey.” 

“Yes,” answered the little girl with another sigh. 
“Have you thought, Nellie, perhaps he won’t like it?” 

“Yes, I’ve thought that too, but I guess it won’t really 
matter much. It may do good, you know.” 

“But he might not come home to supper that night. 
Or he might get real mad, and get up and leave while 
she’s here.” 

“Well, I don’t see that that would really do any harm. 
I guess we’ve got to try something, and this seems kind 
of a plain way to do. If Mother were here, it would be 
better. Mother would know how to give dignity to the 
occasion. But I guess for Mother’s sake I’ve got to do 
something to either improve her or get rid of her before 
Mother comes home. It would kill Mother.” 

“Yes, I know. What do you suppose father’ll say?” 

“Well, I don’t believe I’ll tell father, either, only that 
I’m going to have a girl here to supper. It would only 


RE-CREATIONS 


165 


worry him if he knew she went with Carey; and you 
can always depend on father to be polite, you know, 
to anybody.” 

“Yes,” said Louise soberly. “He’ll be polite, but—* 
he won’t like her, and she can’t help knowing it, no matter 
how thick-skinned she is; but maybe it’ll do her good. 
Only I’m afraid Carey ’ll be mad, and say something to 
father or something.” 

“No, I don’t think he will, not before a girl. Not 
before any girl. Not if I know Carey. He may say things 
afterwards, but we’ll have to be willing to stand that. And, 
besides, what can he say? Aren’t we polite to one of 
his friends ? We’re not supposed to know anything about 
her. When it comes down to facts, little sister, we don’t 
really know anything about her except that she dresses in 
a loud way, chews gum, and talks too loud on the street. 
The other things you have only heard, and you can’t be 
sure they are true unless you see them yourself, or some 
one you trust perfectly has seen them. I know she may 
get a notion in her head that Carey is crazy about her if 
we single her out and invite her alone, but I’ve about 
decided it’s the only way. Anyhow, she’s let herself in 
for things of that sort by getting herself talked about. 
I believe we’ve got to do something quite radical, and 
either kill or cure this trouble. I’ve thought about asking 
that Brand fellow too, and maybe some one else, some 
other girl. But who would it be?” 

Louise thought a moment, then she clutched her sister’s 
hand eagerly. 


166 


RE-CREATIONS 


“Nellie! The very thing! Invite Grace Kendall! She 
would make them all fit in beautifully. I’d hate awfully 
to have her know our Carey went with that Clytie thing ; 
but I guess there isn't any other way, and somehow I 
think a minister’s daughter ought to understand, don’t you ? 
And help?” 

Cornelia was still struggling with her pride. 

“Yes,” she said thoughtfully. “I guess you’re right, 
little sister. Grace Kendall would understand—and help. 
I think God must have given you that idea. We’ll invite 
Clytie and Brand and Grace Kendall, and then trust God 
to show us how to make them all have a good time without 
suspecting what it’s all about. We’ll just tell Carey that 
he must come home early because we have a birthday cake 
and a surprise for him—make him promise to be there, 
you know; and then we’ll take him into the living room, 
and they’ll be there waiting. If he thinks it strange and 
says anything about it afterwards, we’ll tell him we invited 
all the people we knew were his friends, and we couldn’t 
ask him about it beforehand because it had to be a surprise 
party. Now, little sister, I think you’ve solved the prob¬ 
lem with your bright idea; and we can decide on tha* ” 


CHAPTER XIV 


They had the hardest time with Harry when they 
confided to him their plans and asked for his assistance. It 
took a great deal of argument and much tact to make him 
believe that anything good might come out of inviting 
“that chicken,” as he persisted in calling Carey’s latest 
admiration. He had little less scorn for Brand Barlock; 
but, when he heard that Grace Kendall was to be included 
in the list of guests, he succumbed. 

“Aw, gee! It’s a rotten shame to mix her up with that 
gang, but if she’ll come, it’ll be some party. Gee! Yes, 
I’ll take your invites round, but you better find out if the 
minister’s girl will come before you get any of the others.” 

The sisters decided that Harry’s advice was wise, and 
after the children had gone to school and the morn¬ 
ing work was done up Cornelia took her walk to market 
around by the way of the minister’s house and proffered 
her request. 

“I’m not at all sure you’ll like the company,” she said 
with a deprecatory smile; “they are some young people 
Carey got to know last winter, and I want to get acquainted 
with them and see if they are the right kind. I thought 
maybe you’d be willing to help make it a success.” 

That was all the explanation she gave; but the other 
girl’s face kindled sympathetically, and she seemed to 
understand everything. 

“Oh, I’d love to come. Shall I bring some games ? We 

167 


168 


RE-CREATIONS 


have a table-tennis that is a lot of fun; you use it on the 
dining-room table, you know; and there are several 
other games that we enjoy playing here when we have 
a jolly crowd. Suppose I bring my violin over, and we 
have some music, too. IT1 bring some popular songs; we 
have a bunch for when the boys come in from the church.” 

When Cornelia started home, she felt quite cheerful 
about her party. Grace Kendall seemed to be a hostess in 
herself. She had offered to come around and help get 
ready, and the two girls had grown quite chummy. 
Cornelia hummed a little song, and quite forgot that 
across the miles of distance her classmates were this day 
preparing for the elaborate program that had long been 
anticipated for their class-day exercises. Somehow college 
days and their doings had come to seem almost childish 
beside the real things of every day. This party, for in¬ 
stance. How crude and home-made it was all to be! Yet 
it stood for so much, and it seemed as if momentous decis¬ 
ions depended upon its results. 

She stopped in an art shop on her way back, and 
studied little menu cards and favors, purchasing a roll 
of pink crepe paper, some green and yellow tissue paper, 
wire, and cardboard. As soon as she had finished the 
dessert for dinner she hurried to get out scissors, paste, 
pencils, and went eagerly to her dainty work. Before 
Louise and Harry came home from school she had fash¬ 
ioned eight dainty little candy baskets covered with 
ruffled pink paper, and on each slender thread-like pink 
handle there nodded a lovely curly pink rose with a 


RE-CREATIONS 


169 


leaf and a bud, all made of the paper, with their little green 
wire stems twining about the pink basket. Eight little 
blue birds, with their claws and tails so balanced that they 
would hover on the rim of a water glass, and bearing 
in their bills a tiny place card, also lay on the table beside 
the baskets, the product of Cornelia’s skilful brush and 
colors. The children went into ecstasies over them and 
even Harry began to warm to the affair. 

“I guess she’ll see we’re fashionable all right,” he swag¬ 
gered scornfully. “I guess she’ll see she’s got to go some 
to be good enough to speak to our Carey. Say, what did 
the Kendall girl say? Is she coming? Say, she’s a peach, 
isn’t she ? I knew she’d be game all right. Did you tell 
her ’bout the other one? You oughtta. She might not 
like it.” 

“I told her as much as was necessary. You needn’t 
worry about her, she’s pure gold.” 

“You’re talking!” said the boy gruffly, and went whis¬ 
tling upstairs to change his clothes. But Louise stood still, 
enraptured before the little paper baskets and birds. Sud¬ 
denly she turned a radiant face to her sister, and in a 
voice that was almost expressive of awe she said softly: 

“But it’s going to be real; isn’t it, Nellie ? I never knew 
we could be real. I never knew you could do things like 
that. It’s like the pictures in the magazines, and it’s like 
Mrs. Van Kirk’s luncheon. Hazel and I went there on 
an errand to get some aprons for the Red Cross for our 
teacher at school, and we had to wait in the dining-room 
for ten minutes while she hunted them up. The table was 


170 


RE-CREATIONS 


all set for a luncheon she was going to give that day, and 
afterwards we saw about it in the paper; and she had 
baskets and things just like that.” 

Cornelia stooped and kissed the eager young face ten¬ 
derly, and wondered how she could have borne to be sep¬ 
arated all these years from her little sister and brother, and 
not have known how satisfactorily they were growing up. 

“What are you going to put into them?” asked the 
little girl. 

“Well I haven’t decided yet,” said Cornelia. “Prob¬ 
ably salted almonds, don’t you think?” 

“Oh, but there’re awful expensive!” 

“Not if you make them, dear. You and I will make 
them. I’ve done tons of them at college for feasts. It’s 
easy; just blanch them and brown them in a pan with 
butter and salt or oil and salt.” 

“Oh, can you?” More awe in the voice. “And what 
will we have to eat?” 

“Well, I’m not sure yet. We’ll have to count the dishes 
and let that settle some questions. We must have enough 
to go around, you know, and all alike. I wonder if there 
are enough bouillon cups. It takes eight, you know— 
Father, Carey, you, and Harry, three guests and myself. 
Yes, that’s eight. Climb up to the top shelf there, dear, 
and see if there are enough of mother’s rosebud 
bouillon cups.” 

“There are nine and an extra saucer,” announced 
Louise. 

“Well, then we’ll have some kind of soup, just a little; 


RE-CREATIONS 


171 


1 think maybe spinach, cream of spinach soup, it’s such 
a pretty color for spring, you know, that pale-green, and 
matches the dining-room. It’s easy to make, and doesn’t 
cost much; and then we can have the spinach for a vege¬ 
table with the meat course. Now, let’s see, those little clear 
sherbet glasses, are there enough of those?” 

“A whole dozen and seven,” announced Louise. 

“Then we’ll use those at the beginning for a fruit 
cocktail—orange, grapefruit, banana, and I’ll color it pink 
with a little red raspberry juice. I found a can among 
the preserves mother had left over from last winter. It 
makes a lovely pink, and that will match the baskets.” 

“Oh, lovely!” exclaimed the little girl ecstatically; “but 
won’t that cost a lot?” 

“No, dear, I think not. I’ll figure it down pretty close 
tonight and find out; but it doesn’t take much fruit to 
fill those tiny glasses, and it’s mostly show, you know— 
one grapefruit, a couple of oranges, and bananas, and the 
rest raspberry juice. Spinach is cheap now, you know; 
and we can make the body of the soup with a can of con¬ 
densed milk. We can eat corn-meal mush and beans and 
things for a few days beforehand to make up.” 

“I just love fried mush and bean soup.” 

“You’re a ducky! And, besides, I’m going to save on 
the dessert.” 

“Aren’t we going to have ice-cream ?” Louise’s voice 
showed anxiety. 

“Yes, but we’ll make it ourselves. I found the freezer 
out in the back shed under all those old carpets yesterday. 


RE-CREATIONS 


it* 

And we’ll have pale-green peppermint water-ice. It’s beau¬ 
tiful, and costs hardly anything. You just make lemonade 
and put in a few drops of peppermint and a drop or two 
of confectioner’s green coloring; and it is the prettiest 
thing you ever laid eyes on, looks like a dream and tastes 
—wonderful!” 

“Oh!” said Louise, her eyes shining. 

“We’ll have angel cake for the birthday cake, I 
think,” went on the sister, “with white icing and little pink 
candles. Eggs are not expensive now, and anyway 
I found a recipe that says measure the whites, and such 
big eggs as we get take only nine to a cup. How will 
that be, angel cake and green water-ice for dessert?” 

Louise sat down, and folded her hands, her big, expres¬ 
sive eyes growing wide and serious. 

“It’s going to be a success!” she said solemnly with a 
grown-up air. “I was afraid she wouldn’t be—well—- 
impressed but she will. It’s regular! You wanted her to 
be impressed, too; didn’t you, Nellie ?” 

Cornelia couldn’t help laughing at the solemn question, 
but she sobered instantly. 

“Yes, dear, I guess I did. I wanted her to have respect 
for Carey’s family and to know that, however foolish he 
may be, there is something, as you say, ‘regular’ behind 
him. Because there is, you know, Louie. Father and 
mother are ‘regular’.” 

“They are!” said the little girl. 

“It sounds rather queer to try to impress people with 
fuss and show and food fixed up in fancy styles; but, if 


RE-CREATIONS 


17S 


I can judge anything about that girl, she hasn’t reached the 
stage yet where she can appreciate anything but fuss and 
fancy and fashion. So we’ve got to use the things that will 
appeal to her if we want to reach her at all. If it were 
just Grace Kendall coming, or even the young man Brand, 
I would have things very plain and simple. It would be 
in better taste and more to my liking. But I have a notion, 
kitten, that, if we had everything very simple, that young 
lady with the fancy name would rather despise us, and set 
out to ride right over us. They talk a great deal nowadays 
about people’s reaction to things; and, if I know anything 
at all about that girl, I feel pretty sure that her reaction 
to simple, quiet things would be far from what we want. 
So for this once we’ll blossom out and have things as 
stylish and fancy and formal as possible. I’ve heard it 
said that there is nothing so good to take the pride out of 
an ignorant person as an impressive array of forks and 
spoons; so we’ll try it on Miss Clytie, and see if we can 
bring her near enough to our class to get acquainted with 
her real self. Now get a pencil, and write down the menu, 
and see how it reads.” 

“But what are you going to have in the middle, Nellie, 
after the soup? Any meat?” 

“Why, surely, round steak, simmered all day with an 
onion, and browned down with thick gravy the way you 
love it so well; only we’ll cut it into small servings like 
cutlets before we cook it, and nobody will ever dream what 
it is. Then we’ll have new potatoes creamed, with parsley 
sprinkled over them, and spinach minced, with a hard- 


174 


RE-CREATIONS 


boiled egg on top; and for salad we’ll make some gelatin 
molds in the custard cups with shredded cabbage and pars¬ 
ley in it, that on a lettuce leaf will look very pretty; and 
I’ll make the mayonnaise out of the yolks of the eggs 
from the angel cake. There’ll be enough left over to 
make a gold cake or some custard for the next day be¬ 
sides. Now write the menu. Raspberry fruit cocktail, 
cream of spinach soup, round-steak cutlets with brown 
gravy, creamed new potatoes with parsley, spinach, aspic- 
jelly salad, angel cake, mint sherbet, and coffee. Doesn’t 
that sound good?” 

“I should say,” answered the little girl with a happy 
sigh. 

“We’ll have everything all ready beforehand, so that 
the serving will be easy,” went on the elder sister. “The 
butter and water and fruit cocktail will be on the table. 
We can fill the soup cups and keep them in the warming 
oven; and you and Harry can get up quietly; remove the 
fruit glasses, and bring on the soup cups. You see I’ve 
been thinking it all out. I’ve planned to buy two more 
wire shelves to fit into the oven. You know there are 
grooves to move them higher or lower; and I find that, if 
we use the lowest groove for the first, there will be room 
to set the eight plates in there; and we’ll just have every¬ 
thing all served on the plate ready, the little cutlet with 
gravy, the creamed potatoes, and the spinach. Then, if 
we light only one burner and turn it low, and perhaps 
leave the door open a little,—I’ll have to experiment,— 
I think they will keep hot without getting dry or crusty 


RE-CREATIONS 


175 


on the top, just for that little while. The only thing is, 
you’ll have to be tremendously careful not to drop one 
getting them out; they’ll be hot, you know, and you’ll have 
to use a cloth to take them out. Just think, if you dropped 
one, there wouldn’t be enough to go around.” 

Louise giggled, and squeezed her sister’s hand. 

“O Nellie, isn’t it going to be just packs of fun? I 
won’t drop one; indeed I won’t; but if I should I just know 
I’d laugh out loud, it would be so funny, all that grand 
dinner-party in there acting stylish, and those potatoes 
and spinach and meat sitting there on the floor! But don’t 
you worry; if I did drop ’em, I’d pick ’em up again, and 
take that plate for myself. Our kitchen floor’s clean, any¬ 
way. When do we bring in the salad?” 

“Oh, we’ll just have that on the kitchen table by the 
door, ready. And then, while the people are finishing, you 
and Harry can slip out and get the sherbet dished out. 
Do you think you two can manage it?” 

“Oh, sure! Harry does it at school every time we have 
an entertainment. The teacher always gets him to do it 
’cause he gets it out so nice, and not messy, she says. Shall 
we cut the cake beforehand, or what ?” 

“Oh, no; the cake will be on the table with the candles 
lit when we come into the dining-room; and when the 
time comes, Carey will have to blow out the candles and 
cut his own cake.” 

And so they planned the pretty festival, and almost 
forgot the unloved cause of it all, poor, silly little Clytie 
Amabel Dodd. 


176 


RE-CREATIONS 


Cornelia's hardest task was writing the letter of invita¬ 
tion to the guest she dreaded most of all. After tearing up 
several attempts and struggling with the sentences for 
half an hour, it was finally finished, and read: 

“My Dear Miss Dodd, 

“We are having a little surprise for my brother Carey 
on his birthday next Thursday, the twenty-fifth, and would 
be very glad if you will come to dinner at six o'clock to 
meet a few friends. Kindly say nothing to Carey about 
it, and please let us know if we may expect you. 

“Looking forward to meeting you, I am, 

“Very sincerely, 

“Carey’s sister, 

“Cornelia Copley.” 

After a solemn conclave it was decided to mail this 
missive, and then the three conspirators waited anxiously 
for two whole days for a reply. When Harry and Louise 
arrived from school the third day and found no answer 
yet, anxiety was strong. 

“Yes, Harry, you oughtta have taken that note your¬ 
self, the way Nellie said,” declared Louise. 

“Not me!” asserted Harry loftily. “Not if that chic¬ 
ken never comes! We don’t want her anyway. I guess 
we can have a party without her!” 

But a few minutes later a clattering knock arose on 
the front door, and a small boy with an all-day sucker in 
his cheek appeared. 

“My sister, she says sure she’ll come to your s’prise 


RE-CREATIONS 


177 


party,” he announced indifferently; “she didn’t have no 
time to write; so I come.” 

He waited expectantly for a possible reward for his 
labors. Cornelia smiled, thanked him, said she was glad; 
and he departed disappointedly. He was always on the 
lookout for rewards. 

* “That’s Dick Dodd,” Louise explained. “He’s an awful 
bad little kid. He put gum in the teacher’s hat and hid 
a bee in her desk; and once she found three caterpillars 
in her lunch basket, and everybody knew who put them 
there. He never washes his hands nor has a handkerchief.” 

The little girl’s voice was full of scorn. She was re¬ 
turning to her former dislike of their expected guest with 
all that pertained to her. 

“Well, there’s that,” said Cornelia smiling. “She’s 
coming, and we know what to expect. Now I think I’ll 
call up the Barlock house, 'and find out when they expect 
that Brand fellow to be at home. I think I can do that 
more informally over the phone.” 

It just happened that Brand Barlock was passing 
through the houso^where he was supposed to reside, prob¬ 
ably for a change of garments, or something to eat, or to 
get his pocketbook replenished; and he answered the phone 
himself. Cornelia was amused at the haughty conde¬ 
scension of his tone. One would think she had presumed 
to invite royalty to her humble abode by the lofty way in 
which he answered: “Why, yes,—I might come, if noth¬ 
ing else turns up. Yes, I’m sure I can make it. Very nice, 
I’m sure. Anything you’d like to have me bring?” 

12 


178 


RE-CREATIONS 


“Oh, no, indeed!” said Cornelia emphatically, her 
cheeks very red indeed. “It’s just a simple home affair, 
and we thought Carey would enjoy having his friends. 
,You won’t mention it to him, of course.” 

“Aw’ right! I’ll keep mum. So-long!” and the young 
lord hung up. 

Cornelia emerged from the drug-store telephone-booth 
much upset in spirit and wishing she hadn’t invited the 
young up-start. By the time she reached the outer door 
she wished she had never tried to have a party for Carey. 
But, when she got back to Louise and her shining interest, 
her common sense had returned; and she set herself to 
bear the unpleasantness and make those two queer, incon¬ 
gruous guests of hers enjoy themselves in spite of every¬ 
thing, or else make them feel so uncomfortable that they 
would take themselves forever out of Carey’s life. 

Steadily forward went the preparations for the party, 
and at last the birthday morning arrived. 


CHAPTER XV 


Arthur Maxwell over his morning grape fruit, but¬ 
tered toast and coffee, which he usually had served in his 
apartment, began in a leisurely way to open his mail. 

There was a thick enticing letter from his mother 
which he laid aside till the last. He and his mother were 
great pals and her letters were like a bit of herself, almost 
as good as talking with her face to face. He always en¬ 
joyed every word of them. 

There were the usual number of business communica¬ 
tions which he tore open and read hurriedly as he came 
to them, frowning over one, putting another in his pocket 
to be answered in his office, and then at the very bottom, 
under a long envelope which carried a plea for money 
for his Alma Mater to help build a new observatory, he 
came suddenly upon a square, foreign-looking envelope 
addressed in a dashing illegible hand and emitting a sub¬ 
tile fragrance of rare flowers, a fragrance that had hovered 
exquisitely about his senses from the moment the mail 
had been laid by his plate, reminding him dimly of some¬ 
thing sweet and forbidden and half forgotten. 

He looked at the letter, half startled, a trifle displeased 
and yet greatly stirred. It represented a matter that he 
was striving to put out of his life, that he thought he 
had succeeded in overcoming, even almost forgetting. A 
grim speculative look came into his face. He hesitated 
before he reached out his hand to pick up the letter, and 

179 


180 


RE-CREATIONS 


questioned whether he should even open it. Then with 
a look that showed he had taken himself well in hand he 
picked it up, ran his knife crisply under the flap of the 
envelope and read: 

“Dear Arthur, 

“I am passing through Philadelphia tomorrow on my 
way to Washington and am stopping over for a few hours 
especially to see you about a matter of grave importance. 
I feel that you will not be angry at my breaking this 
absurd silence that you have imposed between us when I 
tell you that I am in great trouble and need your advice. 
I remember your promise always to be my friend, and 
I know you will not. refuse to see me now for at least 
a few minutes. 

“I am coming down on the two o’clock train from 

New York and shall go directly to Hotel-and await 

your coming anxiously. I know you will not fail me, 
“Yours eternally, 

“Evadne.” 

The subtle fragrance, the dashing script, the old famil¬ 
iar turn of sentence, reached into his consciousness and 
gripped him for a second in spite of his being on his guard. 
Something thrilling and tragic seemed to emanate from 
the very paper in his hand, from the royal purple of the 
lining of the expensive envelope. For an instant he felt 
the old lure, the charm, the tragedy of his life which he 
was seeking to outlive, which he had supposed was al¬ 
ready outlived. 

In his senior year in college Arthur Maxwell had 


RE-CREATIONS 


181 


become acquainted with Evadne Chantry at a house party 
where both had been guests. They had been thrown to¬ 
gether during the two days of their stay, whether by the 
hostess’ planning or at the lady’s request is not known, 
but Arthur, at first not much attracted by her type, found 
himself growing more and more interested. 

Evadne was a slender, dark, sophisticated little thing 
with dreamy eyes and a naive appeal. His chivalry was 
challenged, and when it further appeared that she was 
just from England, and was of the old family of Chantrys 
whom his mother knew and visited, he got down from his 
distance and capitulated. They became close friends, in 
spite of the fact that Evadne’s ways were not the ways 
in which he had been brought up, and in which his young 
manhood had chosen to walk. But he had found himself 
excusing her. She had not been taught as he had. She 
had lived abroad where standards were different. She had 
been in boarding schools and convents, and then travelled. 
He felt she could be brought to change her ways. 

It appeared that she was going to be for sometime 
in the city where his college was located, and the friend¬ 
ship ripened rapidly, taking Arthur Maxwell into a social 
group as utterly foreign to his own as one could imagine, 
in fact one which he did not really enjoy, yet he went 
for Evadne’s sake. 

When he came to the point of telling his mother of 
the friendship, about which it had been strangely hard 
to write, he found that it was no easy matter. In the 


m 


RE-CREATIONS 


light of her clear eyes there were matters which could 
not be so easily set aside as his own conscience had been 
soothed to do. He suddenly realized what a shock it 
would be to his conservative mother to see Evadne smok¬ 
ing, to watch her in her sinuous attitudes, to know that 
her son was deeply interested in a young woman who 
had plucked eyebrows and used a lip stick freely. When 
he came to think of it some of her costumes might be 
exceedingly startling to his mother. Yet he believed in 
his mother so thoroughly that he felt she could be made 
to understand how much this girl had suffered from lack 
of a mother, and how much she was in need of just such 
a friend as his mother could be. 

When the time arrived that Mrs. Maxwell had to 
learn these things her son was even more startled than 
herself to find out how much she really was shocked at 
his choice of a girl. The stricken look that came into her 
eyes the first time they met told him without further words 
from her lips. In that moment he might be said to have 
grown up as he suddenly looked upon the girl whom he 
thought he loved beyond all women, through the eyes of 
his mother. 

His mother had been wonderful even though she car¬ 
ried the stricken look through the entire interview. She 
had perhaps not exactly taken Evadne into her arms quite 
as he had hoped, but she had been gently sweet and polite. 
His mother would always be that. She had been quiet* 
so quiet, and watchful, as if she were gravely considering 
some threatened catastrophe and meeting it bravely. 


RE-CREATIONS 


183 


Afterwards, she had met his eyes with a brave, sad 
smile, without a hint of rebuke, not a suggestion that he 
should have told her sooner, only an acceptance of the 
fact that the girl was here in their lives and must be dealt 
with fairly. She listened to his story of Evadne’s life, 
considered his suggestion that she might help the girl, 
heard how they had met and his reasons for feeling that 
she was the one and only girl. As he told it all he was 
conscious of something searching in her sweet, grave eyes 
that turned a knife in his heart, yet he was full of hope 
that she would eventually understand and come under 
Evadne's spell with himself. 

Only once she questioned about the girl. How did 
he know she belonged to the Chantrys she knew ? What 
relationship did she bear to them ? Was she Paul Cham 
try's sister? Cousin? She did not remember that there 
had been a daughter. 

Evadne had not taken kindly to his mother. She 
wept when Arthur talked with her alone after their meet¬ 
ing, and said she was sure his mother did not love her. 
But the days passed on and Mrs. Maxwell kept her own 
counsel, and invited the girl to her home, doing all the 
little gracious social things that might be expected of 
her, yet with a heavy heart, till one day when it seemed 
that an announcement of the engagement should be the 
next thing in order, there came a letter from England 
in answer to one Mrs. Maxwell had written, disclaiming 
any relationship between Evadne and the distinguished 
old family who were her friends. 


184 


RE-CREATIONS 


This was a matter that Arthur could not ignore when 
his mother brought it to his notice, and Evadne was asked 
for an explanation. 

Evadne met his questions with haughty contempt and 
then with angry tears and retired into an offended silence 
that seemed as impenetrable as a winter fog, from which 
she presently emerged like a martyr with vague explana¬ 
tions of a distant cousinship that seemed full and sufficient 
to his gallant, young spirit, till he tried to repeat them 
to his clear-eyed mother and then they did not seem 
so convincing. 

The matter was finally smoothed over, however, and 
it seemed as if the mother was about to be called upon 
to set the seal of her approval upon a speedy marriage 
between the two, when there came a revelation through 
the medium of an old friend who had met Evadne abroad, 
and asked her quite casually, in the presence of the Max¬ 
wells where her husband was. Explanations followed, of 
course, and it appeared that Evadne was married already 
and had left her husband in South Africa without even the 
formality of a divorce. 

There followed days of sore distress, of weepings and 
sobbed pleadings, Evadne telling the tale of her woes, a 
tale that gathered tragedy from the sympathy of the young 
lover who felt that life had reached its depths of sorrow 
for him and earth would never be bright again. 

Gradually, however, the girl’s clever story broke down 
his indignation at her deception, as she told him sobbingly 
how lonely she was and how she longed for friendship 


RE-CEE ATION S 


185 


and something real in life; and it took many days and 
nights of agonizing thought before the plummet of his 
soul was able to swing clear and tell him that no matter 
how lonely she was or who was to blame, or how much or 
when or why, there was one thing true, if Evadne was mar¬ 
ried, she was not for him, no, not even if she got a divorce. 
So much inheritance had he from long lines of Puritan 
ancestors, and from the high, fine teachings of his mother. 
It was a law of God, and it was right. He was not alto¬ 
gether sure just then that he believed in the God who 
had let all this tragedy come into his life, but he believed 
in the law and he must keep it. He had felt himself grow 
old in those days while he was coming to that inevitable 
conclusion that if it was not right for them to love one 
another, then they must not see one another. 

For days he could not talk about it to his mother, and 
she spent the hours upon her knees, while he went about 
stern and white, and Evadne did all in her power to make 
him see that times had changed and modern ways did 
not accept those puritan laws any more which he was 
holding forth as final and inexorable. Sin! What was 
sin f There was no such thing! Lain)! She laughed. Why 
keep a law that everyone else was breaking? It was all 
of a piece with his old fogy notions about drinking wine 
and having a good time. He was the dearest in all the 
world of course, but he was narrow. She held out her 
lily arms from the sheath-like black velvet gown she had 
assumed and pleaded with him to come with her, come out 
into the broad, free air of a big life! She was clever. 


186 


RE-CREATIONS 


She had caught most of the modern phrases. She knew 
how to appeal to the finer things in him, and almost she 
won her point. Almost he wavered for just the fraction 
of a second, and thought, perhaps she is right—perhaps 
I am narrow. Then he lifted his eyes and saw his mother 
standing in the doorway, being shown in by a blundering 
servant, his fine patrician mother with her sweet, true 
eyes, and pure, sorrowful face, and he knew. He knew 
that Evadne was wrong, and his mother—yes his mother 
and he were right. There could be nothing but sin in a 
love that was stolen—a love that transgressed. 

He had gone away then and left his mother to talk 
to the other woman, and something, somewhere in his 
manhood had kept him away after that. He had written 
her fully his final word, with so stem a renunciation that 
even Evadne knew it was unalterable. He had laid down 
the law that they must not meet again, and had then gone 
away to another part of the country and established him¬ 
self in business and tried to forget. 

That had been two years ago. Long years, he called 
it when he thought of them by himself. The haggard 
look of the gray young face had past away gradually, and 
the stern lines had softened as his fine mind and strong 
body and naturally cheerful spirit came back to normal, but 
there had been a reserve about him that made people think 
him a year or two older than he really was, and made some 
women when they met him call him “distinguished.” He 
had passed in the struggles of his soul, slowly away from 
the place where he regarded Evadne as a martyr, and had 


RE-CREATIONS 


187 


come at last to the time when he could look his experi¬ 
ence squarely in the face and realize that she had been 
utterly untrue to all that was fine and womanly, and that 
he was probably saved from a life of sorrow and dis¬ 
appointment. Nevertheless, back in his soul there lingered 
his pity for her slender beauty, her pretty helplessness. A 
natural conclusion had come to him that all girls were de¬ 
ceitful, all beautiful women were naturally selfish and 
untrue. There were no more good, sweet, true girls now¬ 
adays as there were when his mother was a girl. 

Away from home he drifted out of church-going. He 
immersed himself in business and began to be a brilliant 
success. He wrote long letters to his mother and enjoyed 
hers in return, but his epistles were not revealing. She 
sensed his reserves, and when they met she felt his playful 
gentleness with her was a screen for a bitterness of soul 
which she hoped and prayed might pass. And it did pass, 
gradually, until she had almost come to feel that his soul 
was healed, and the tragedy forgotten. More and more 
she prayed now that some day, when he was ready, he 
might meet a different kind of girl, one who would make 
him forget utterly the poor little vampire who had almost 
ruined his life’s happiness. In fact, the last time she had 
seen him on her recent trip to Philadelphia he had laugh¬ 
ingly told her that she needn’t worry about him any more. 
He was utterly heart whole and happy. 

But it is a question, whether if she had been permitted 
to look in on him this morning as he read Evadne’s letter, 
she would have felt that his words had been quite true. 


188 


RE-CREATIONS 


He had promised his mother, in those first days after 
the break with Evadne, that he would not see her nor 
communicate with her for at least two years. The time 
was more than past, yet he felt the righteous obligation 
of his promise still upon him. He knew that he ought 
not to see Evadne again. He knew that the very sight of 
her would stir in him the old interest, which he now felt 
to be of a lower order than the highest of which he 
was capable. He could see her sitting now flung back in 
some bewildering costume that revealed the delicate, slim 
lines of her figure, some costly bauble smouldering on the 
whiteness of her neck that might have graced an Egyptian 
queen, her hair moulded in satin-like folds about her small 
head, and her slanted eyes half closed, studying him taunt¬ 
ingly as she held her cigarette in her jewelled fingers and 
considered with what clever personality to bind him next. 

The distance of time had shown him that he had been 
bound, that he had been a fool, and had brought him dis¬ 
illusionment; yet he knew that if he gave it half a chance 
the enchantment would work again upon him, and he 
felt contempt for himself that it was so. Yet strangely 
he found a law within himself that longed again to be 
enchanted, even while he sneered at the emptiness of it all. 

Suppose he should go tonight to meet her—it was to¬ 
night. He glanced at the date of the letter to make sure. 
He could tell almost to a flicker of an eyelash what 
would happen. 

She would meet him as if they had parted but yester¬ 
day, and she would ignore all that was passed except that 


RE-CREATIONS 


189 


they loved each other. His soul rebelled at the thought 
of that for he did not now feel that he loved her any 
longer. The cleanness of his spirit had put that away. 
She was not his, she was another’s. She was not fit for 
a real love, even if there had been no barrier. That had 
been his maturer thought, especially at times when he 
remembered her deceit. Yet human nature is a subtle thing. 
Though he resented her thinking that he had continued 
to care for her, he feared for himself lest when he saw 
her he would allow her to think that it was so. And yet 
he longed to go and see how it would be. He felt curious 
to try his dearly-bought contentment and see if it would 
hold. Should he go? 

His mother would advise against it, of course. But 
he was a man now. This was his personal responsibility. 
Whether he should see her or not. All that about her 
needing advice in trouble was rot, of course. There were 
plenty of people who could advise her. He could send 
the old family lawyer to her if necessary. Her plea had 
been well planned to make him come because she wished 
to see if he still cared, or if he had forgotten her. But 
yet it might be salutary for them both for him to go for 
a few minutes and show her that there was nothing to 
all the tragedy that they had thought they were 
living through. 

Well,—there was plenty of time to decide what to 
do. She wasn’t coming till afternoon—he could go, of 
course, and take her to the Roof Garden for dinner—oi 
perhaps she would better enjoy one of the quieter places 


190 


RE-CREATIONS 


—he knew a little Chinese Restaurant that was more her 
style. However, he would thrash it out during the day. 
It was getting late and he must hurry to the office. But 
he must read his mother’s letter first, of course. There 
might be something she wanted done at once. She was 
staying in the mountains for a little while with her sister 
who was recovering from a severe illness, and there often 
was some shopping she wanted him to attend to at once. 

He opened the letter, his mind preoccupied with 
thoughts of Evadne. 

The letter was filled with wonderful descriptions of 
views and people his mother had met, mingled with wise 
and witty comments on politics and current events. He 
skimmed it hastily through to the last paragraph 
which read: 

“I came on a lovely clump of maidenhair ferns yester¬ 
day in my walk, and I had the gardener at the hotel take 
them up and box them carefully for me. I want to send 
them to my little friend, the interior decorator whom I 
met on the train a few weeks ago. You remember? But 
after they were all ready to go and I came to look for the 
address I remembered that I left it in the little drawer of 
the desk in your apartment. I have tried my best to rack 
my brains for a clue to the street and number, and can’t 
remember a thing except that her name was Cornelia 
Copley. I remembered that because of the Copley prints 
of which we are both so fond. So rather than give up 
the idea or trust to the ferns finding her in that big city 
with just her name and no street address I am sending 
them to you. I want you to slip the box into your car 
and take a run out that way the very day they come and 


RE-CREATIONS 


191 


deliver them for me, please. I liked that little girl, and 
I want her to have these beautiful ferns. They will help 
her decorate her forlorn little house. I hope you won't 
consider this a nuisance, son. But you never do when I 
ask a favor. I know. Be sure to do it at once, for the 
ferns won’t stand it long without water.” 

A knock came on the door just then, and the young 
man looked up to see the wife of the colored janitor, who 
looked after the apartment and cooked his breakfast, stand¬ 
ing in the open door. 

“The ’spressman done brung a box, Mr. Maxwell,” she 
said. “What you want did with it?” 

“Oh, it’s come! Well, tell him to put it into my car. 
It ought to be out at the door waiting by this time, and 
just sign for it please, Hannah. I’m in a hurry this morn¬ 
ing. I have an appointment at half past eight.” 

Five minutes later, when Maxwell hurried down, he 
found the big box on the floor of his car, with feathery 
fronds reaching out to the light and blowing deli¬ 
cately in the breeze. 

“Well, I should say she did send a few!” he grumbled 
to himself. “Trust mother to do a thing thoroughly! I 
don’t see when I can possibly manage to deliver these to¬ 
day! I’ll have to get away somehow at lunch time I 
suppose. I certainly wish mother hadn’t chosen this spe¬ 
cial day to wish one of her pet enthusiasms on me! She’s 
always hunting out some nice girl! I wish she wouldn’t!” 

With that he slammed shut the door, threw in the 
clutch, and was off, and never thought of those ferns all 
day long until late in the afternoon, later than his usual 


192 


RE-CREATIONS 


hour for going to his dinner, he climbed wearily into 
the car again. He had had a hard day, with perplexing 
problems to solve and a disagreeable visiting head to show 
all over the Philadelphia branch, and keep in good humor. 
There had not been a minute to get away, not even for a 
bit of a run in the car at noon; for the visitor had a cold, 
and didn’t care to ride; so they lunched in the downstairs 
restaurant, and went back to work again all the afternoon. 
The visitor at last was whirled away in the car of another 
employee to whose home in the suburbs he had been in¬ 
vited to dinner, and Maxwell with a sigh of relief, and 
feeling somehow very lonesome and tired, was free at 
last, free to consider the problem of the evening. 

He was just backing out of the garage, and turning 
to see that his wheels had cleared the doorway, his eye 
caught a gleam of green. 

“Oh, doggone those fool ferns!” he said under his 
breath. “Now I’ll simply have to get them off my hands 
tonight, or they’ll ‘die on me’ as the elevator man said 
his first wife did. Mother didn’t know what a nuisance 
this would be. I haven’t a minute to waste on such fool 
nonsense tonight. I really ought to call up Evadne at 
once and let her know I’m coming —if I am. I wonder if 
I am. Well, here goes with the ferns first. It won’t take 
long if I can find the dump, and it will give me a few! 
minutes leisure to decide what I’ll do. I haven’t had a 
second all day long. I never saw such a day!” 

He sent the car shooting forward on the smooth roa4, 
climbing the long grade into the sunset. 


CHAPTER XVI 


The morning had opened most favorably in the Copley 
home, with everybody in good spirits. At the breakfast 
table Cornelia had informed the male portion of the 
family quite casually that there was to be a birthday sup¬ 
per and they must all come promptly home and dress up for 
it and Harry had given a grave wink at Louise which al¬ 
most convulsed her. 

Carey was in charming spirits. When he awoke, he 
had found two new shirts and two pairs of silk socks 
by his bedside “with love from Cornelia/’ and a handker¬ 
chief and necktie apiece from each of the children; and 
he came down with uproarious thanks to greet them. Mr. 
Copley, thus reminded of the occasion got up Detore he 
had finished his first cup of coffee, and went into the liv¬ 
ing room to the desk. When he came back, he carried a 
check in his hand made out to Carey. 

“There, son, that’s from mother and me for that new 
suit you need,” he said in a voice warm with feeling. “I 
meant to get around to it last night, but somehow the date 
slipped me.” 

And Carey taken unaware, was almost embarrassed, 
rising with the check in his hand and his color coming 
and going like a girl. 

“Why Dad! Really, Dad! You ought not to do 
this now. I’m an old chump that I haven’t earned one long 
ago. Take it back, Dad; you’ll need it for mother. I’ll 
take the thought just the same.” 
is 


19$ 


RE-CREATIONS 


m 

“No, that's all right, son; you earn the next one,"said 
the father with a touch on his son’s arm almost like 
a caress. 

And so the little party separated with joy on every face, 
and went their separate ways. Carey was still working at 
the garage. He had been secretly saving up to buy a sec¬ 
ond-hand automobile that he knew was for sale, excusing 
the desire by saying it would be good for his mother to ride 
in when she came home; but now he suddenly saw that 
his ambition was selfish and that what he must first do 
was to get a job where he could help his father and pay 
his board at home. To that end he resolved to hand twenty- 
five dollars to Cornelia that very night if he could get it 
out of Pat, and start the new year aright, telling her it 
was board money. 

He promised most solemnly to be at home in time to 
“fix up" before supper, and Cornelia went about the day’s 
preparations with a light heart. There seemed a reasonable 
amount of hope that the young man himself would be 
likely to be on hand at his own birthday party. Having 
secured the two most likely sources of other engagements, 
Clytie and Brand, there didn’t seem much else that could 
happen to upset her plans. 

The birthday cake had been a regular angel the way 
it rose and stayed risen when it got there, and blushed a 
lovely biscuit brown, and took its icing smoothly. It was 
even now reposing in state in the bread-box ready for its 
candles, which Louise was to add when she returned from 


RE-CREATIONS 


m 


school at noon. Both children were coming home at noon, 
and Harry was not going to the grocery that day. 

Cornelia had put the whole house in apple-pie order 
the day before, made the cake and the gelatin salad, and had 
done all the marketing. The day looked easy ahead of 
her. She set the biscuit, and tucked them up in a warm 
comer, washed the spinach in many waters, and left it in 
its last cold bath getting crisp, with the lettuce in a stone 
jar doing the same thing. Then she sat down with a 
silver spoon, a sharp knife, a big yellow bowl, and a 
basket of fmit to prepare the fruit cocktail. 

While she was doing this, Grace Kendall ran in with 
her arms full of lovely roses that had been sent to her 
mother that morning. She said her mother wished to 
share them with the Copleys. Grace put the flowers into 
water and sat down with another spoon to help. Before 
long the delicious pink and gold mixture was put away 
on the ice all ready for night. Grace helped scrape the 
potatoes and dust the living room, then went home promis¬ 
ing to be on hand early and help entertain the strange 
guests. Somehow Grace seemed to understand all about 
both of them and to be tremendously interested in the 
whole affair. Cornelia went about her pretty living room 
putting the last touches everywhere, setting a blue bowl 
of roses at just the right angle on the table, putting an espe¬ 
cially lovely half-open bud in a tall, slender glass on the 
bookcase, pushing a chair into place, turning a magazine 
and a book into inviting positions. She kept thinking 


196 


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how glad she was for this new girl friend, this girl who* 
though a little younger, yet seemed to understand so well. 
She sighed as she touched the roses lovingly, and recog¬ 
nized a fleeting impossible wish that her brother might 
have chosen to be interested in a girl like this one instead 
of the gum-chewing, ill-bred child with whom he seemed 
to be pairing off. 

The children were so excited when they arrived at 
noon that she had difficulty in persuading them to eat 
any lunch. They ate the sandwiches and drank the milk 
she had set out for them, in one swallow, it seemed to 
her; and then they flew to the tasks that had been assigned 
to them. Harry brought in armfuls of wood and stowed 
them neatly away in the big locker by the fireside, and 
built up a beautifully scientific fire ready to light. It was 
a lovely warm spring day, but with all the windows open 
in the evening a good fire in the fireplace would be quite 
acceptable and altogether too charming to omit. He swept 
the hearth, and then went out and scrubbed {he front 
steps, swept the front walk, and mowed the little patch of 
lawn, trimming the edges till it looked like a well- 
groomed park. 

Meantime Louise and her sister set the table with the 
air of one who decks a bride. It was so nice to use 
the table full length, to spread the beautifully laundered 
cloth, mother’s only “best” cloth that was left, treasured 
from the years of plenty; to set the best china and glass 
in place, and make the most of the small stock of nicely 
polished silver. And then the crystal bowl of roses in 


RE-CREATIONS 


19? 

the centre of each end made such a difference in the glory 
of the whole thing! 

“Wasn’t it dear of her to send them?” exclaimed 
Louise, pulling a great luscious bud over to droop at just 
the right angle. 

Of course the crowning glory of all was the big angel 
cake with its gleaming white frosting set in the midst of 
a wreath of roses, with the twenty-one candles in a little 
pink circle cunningly fastened to the cardboard circle 
concealed by the rose foliage. It certainly was a pretty 
thing. The little pink paper baskets filled with delicately 
browned and salted nuts were placed at each place by 
the exalted Louise, whose eyes shone as if she were 
doing the honors at some great festival; and the little 
birds with their name cards tilted on the rims of the 
glasses delightfully. The little girl stood back with clasped 
hands, and surveyed it all. 

“It’s real!” she said delightedly. “It truly is. And 
she’ll be—she’ll be impressed, won’t she, sister?” 

There was no question between the two which of 
their young lady guests they desired to impress. Their 
eyes met in sympathy. Then Cornelia with a fleeting fear 
of being misunderstood: 

“Yes, dear, I hope she will. But you know it’s not 
that I want to make a show before her. It’s that—well, 
she is the kind of girl who lacks all the formalities and 
refinements of life, and we have to do a little extra to 
make her understand. You know formalities are good 
things sometimes. They are like fences to keep intruders 


m RE-CREATIONS 

out and hedges to keep in the sacred and beautiful things 
of life.” 

Louise went and threw her arms around Cornelia, 
exclaiming: “Nellie, you are just dear! You are like 
mother! You seem to find such pretty things to say to 
make me understand.” 

Cornelia stooped and kissed the warm pink cheek, 
realizing how very dear this little sister was growing, 
and how happy a time they had had getting ready for 
their party. 

Meantime the cutlets were simmering away gently, get¬ 
ting themselves tender and brown, and every dish and 
platter and spoon and knife was in position for serving. 
Harry had come in, and was cracking ice and getting the 
freezer ready; and Cornelia mixed the materials for the 
water-ice. There was an excited half-hour while Harry 
ground away at the freezer and then the paddle was taken 
out, and everybody had a taste of the delectable green 
mixture that looked like a dream of spring, and tasted 
“wonderful,” the children said. 

“Now,” said Cornelia, putting the biscuits into the 
oven and looking at the clock, “ it’s time to go upstairs 
and rest a bit and get dressed. There’s plenty of hot 
water, and Harry had better take his bath first while 
you lie down, Louie. Yes, I want you to rest on the bed 
at least ten minutes with your eyes shut. It will make 
a big difference. You are so excited you don’t even know 
you’re tired, and you’ve got a long evening before you. 
You want to be rested enough to enjoy it. Oh, yes, I’m 


RE-CREATIONS 


190 


coming up to rest, too, just as soon as I get the water 
on for the potatoes, and spinach. Then we’ll rest together; 
and, when Harry gets his bath, we’ll get up and begin 
to dress. Harry, you must polish your shoes and make 
them look fine. I’m glad you had your hair cut yesterday. 
It looks very nice. Now let’s go upstairs.” 

But a sudden gloom had fallen over the face of Louise. 
In all the planning, strange to say, it had never once 
occurred to her to think what she herself would wear. 
Now the old, perplexing problem of the ages swept down 
upon her darkly. 

“But, Cornie, what shall I put on?” 

She looked down at her blue checked gingham, and 
thought of the faded blue challis that had been her best 
all winter, washed and let down, and made to do because 
there was no money to buy anything else. It had a great 
three-cornered tear where it caught on the key of the 
door last Sunday night, forgotten until now. 

Cornelia seemed not to notice her dismay. 

“I laid your things out on a chair up in our room,” 
she said pleasantly. “Everything is ready.” 

“But I—there’s a—at least, don’t you think I better 
wash out my collar? It’s just awful dirty!” 

“Everything’s all right dear,” said her sister, bending 
over to look at the oven flame and be sure it was just high 
enough to bake the biscuits the right shade of brown. “Run 
up, and you’ll see.” 

Louise turned and walked slowly up the stairs revolv¬ 
ing the possibility of her sister’s having mended the tear 


$00 


RE-CREATIONS 


and washed the collar, and resolving not to be disappointed 
if she had done neither. 

“She had a lot to do this morning, and couldn’t, of 
course; and I wouldn’t want her to. I’ll hurry and do it 
myself,” said the loyal little soul. Then she entered the 
bedroom and stood entranced. 

“O Harry, Harry! Come quick and see!” she cried 
to the boy, who was pattering downstairs barefoot in his 
bath robe with a bunch of clean garments under his arm. 
“She’s made over her beautiful pink organdie with the 
lace on it for me! Isn’t she dearf Isn’t it a darling? 
And the little black velvet bows! And there’s a 
white apron with lace ruffles for me to wait on the 
table in, and some of her own white silk stockings, 
and look at the ducky rosettes on my old pumps! They 
look like new! Oh! Isn’t she the darlingest sister in 
the world?” 

“She sure is!” fervently agreed Harry; and Cornelia, 
half-way up the stairs, stopped suddenly and brushed away 
two tears that plumped unannounced into her tired eyes. 
“Gee! That’s some dress,” went on Harry. “Put it all 
over Clytie, won’t you? Glad you got it kid! You de¬ 
serve it”; and Harry bolted into the bathroom after this 
unusual display of affection, and slammed the door after 
him, while Louise came like a young whirlwind into Cor¬ 
nelia’s arms to hug and kiss her. 

“And what are you going to wear, Nellie?” the little 
girl asked anxiously when they were resting together on 
the bed. “You know you must look just right, because 


RE-CREATIONS 


201 


you’re the centre of it all, the head, kind of, you know— 
the—the—well —more than mother, because you’re young 
and have to look stylish. We’ve got to have that girl 
understand you know; and clothes do make such a lot of 
difference—to a girl like that! I’ll tell you a secret if you 
won’t feel bad. I was planning to stay mostly in the kit¬ 
chen so she wouldn't see my old blue challis. I thought 
she wouldn’t have much opinion of us if Carey’s little sis¬ 
ter dressed like that at a party. But now, now I can come 
out and have a good time.” 

“Darling!” Cornelia patted her tenderly on the shoul¬ 
der. “I’m so sorry you’ve been troubled about your clothes. 
I ought to have got at them sooner, and not made you 
worry. I think I’ll wear my white rajah silk with the 
burnt-orange trimmings. I made it after a French model, 
and I always liked it. It’s right to have everything pretty 
and neat, of course, but I hope I haven’t made you too 
conscious about such things. You know it really doesn’t 
matter about clothes if we look clean and neat and behave 
well. I think we’ve been placing too high a value on looks 
anyway. Of course looks do count a little; but they are, 
after all, only a trifle beside real worth; and, if we can’t 
impress that girl with our refinement by our actions, why, 
we can put on all the clothes in the universe, and we won’t 
be able to do it any better.” 

“I know it,” answered the little girl wisely; “only it 
is nice to have everything nice this time, because really 
and truly, Nellie, it’s going to be just awful hard to have 


m 


RE-CREATIONS 


that girl here. I—I—just kind of hate her! It seems as 
if she’s going to spoil this whole nice party.” 

Cornelia had been stifling some such sinking of heart 
herself as she stood looking at the pretty table and thought 
of the insignificant little flirt who had brought it all into 
being, but now she roused to the danger. 

“Dearie! We mustn’t feel that way! We just mustn’t. 
You know we’ve been praying, and now we’ve got to trust. 
And, after all, I don’t suppose she is so very formidable. 
We’ll just be polite and try to forget she is any different 
from Grace Kendall.” 

“Oh, but she is, Nellie; how can we forget it ? Why 
do there have to be such girls made ? And why do brothers 
have to have anything to do with them? I just feel so 
sore all over when the girls at school talk about her and 
then look at me. My face always bums.” 

“There, dear! Now you mustn’t think such things. 
Just remember that for tonight at least she is our guest 
and we’ve got to treat her as well as any guest we ever 
expect to have. The rest is up to her.” 

“And to God,” breathed the little girl softly and sol¬ 
emnly.” 

“Yes, dear. Think of that”; and she came close and 
kissed the pink cheek tenderly. 

Then Harry came whistling from the bathroom, and 
shot upstairs, leaving a pleasant odor of scented soap and 
steam behind him; and the two on the bed knew it was 
time to rise and get to work; for the last round was on in 
the game, and there was no time to idle. 


CHAPTER XVII 


Carey came in at a quarter to six, a most unwonted 
thing for him to do, even though he had been implored 
to do so by both sisters; and a great anxiety rolled from 
their minds as he went whistling merrily up the stairs 
and was heard splashing around in the bathroom. He 
had not been allowed to go into the dining-room. Louise 
had met him at the front door, showed him the glories 
of her new dress, and piloted him straight to the upper 
floor; but the general gala atmosphere of the house and 
the breath of the roses in the living room gave him the 
?ense of festivity. He had not yet recovered from his 
boyish pleasure of the morning gifts and the unwonted 
tenderness of his father. He had the air of intending 
to do his part toward making this evening a pleasant one. 
As he went about an elaborate toilet, he resolved not to 
go out at all, but to stay at home the whole evening and 
try to make himself agreeable to his family, who were 
going to so much trouble for him. This virtuous resolve 
gave an exalted ring to the jazzy tune he whistled above 
the sound of the running water, and also served to hide 
from his ears numerous sounds below stairs. 

Grace Kendall arrived and slipped into the kitchen; 
donned a big apron, and did efficient service arranging 
the lettuce leaves on the salad plates and turning out the 
pretty quivering jelly on them. Louise was posted at 
the front window with wildly throbbing heart and earnest 

203 


204 


RE-CREATIONS 


little face, awaiting the guest of anxiety, afraid she would 
come before Carey got out of the bathroom and safely 
up into his room, afraid and half hoping she wouldn’t 
come at all, after all—and yet! Oh! There she was 
coming right in the gate! Suddenly Louise’s feet grew 
heavy, and for one awful second she knew she couldn’t 
walk to the front door and open it. And Carey—yes 
Carey was unlocking the bathroom door. He was going 
upstairs. Strength returned to her unwilling feet, and 
she sped to the door, and found herself opening it and 
bowing pleasantly to the overdressed and somewhat em¬ 
barrassed young woman standing on the steps. Suddenly 
the sweetness and simplicity of the little pink organdie her 
sister had made for her enveloped all Louise’s shyness 
and anxiety, and she felt quite able to carry off 
the situation. 

“Come right in,” she said sweetly with a tone o£ 
real welcome. 

Clytie stepped in, and stared around curiously, almost 
furtively. It was evident she had not at all known to 
what sort of place she was coming and was startled, embar¬ 
rassed. She was dressed in a vivid turquoise-blue taffeta 
evening frock composed of myriads of tiny ruffles, a bit 
of a girdle, and silver shoulder straps, the whole being 
much abbreviated at both ends and but partially concealed 
under a flimsy evening coat of light tan. Her face had 
that ghastly coloring of too much powder and paint. Her j 
hat was a strange creation of henna ostrich-feathers hang¬ 
ing out in a cascade behind and looking like a bushy head 


RE-CREATIONS 


W5 

of red hair. Rings and bracelets glittered and tinkled 
against a cheap bead hand-bag, and her gauzy hosiery and 
showy footgear were entirely in keeping with the tout 
ensemble. But when she stepped into the beautiful living 
room with its flickering fire, its softly shaded lights, its 
breath of roses and harmony of color, she seemed some¬ 
how as much out of place as a potato-bug in a lady’s bou¬ 
doir. Louise had a sudden feeling of compassion for her 
as the victim of a terrible joke, and she felt afraid of her 
no longer. 

“Will you come upstairs and take off your hat?” she 
asked sweetly, and led the way up to her bedroom, where 
everything was in dainty order. A single rose in a tiny vase 
in front of the mirror under a pink-shaded candle-light 
set the keynote for the whole room. 

Clytie stepped awesomely into the pretty room, and 
gazed about fearsomelv, almost as if she suspected a trap 
somewhere, almost as if she felt herself an intruder, yet 
bold enough to see the experience through to the finish. 
It wasn’t in the least what she had expected of Carey, 
but it was interesting. She decided they were “highbrows” 
whatever that was. She took off the elaborate hat, and 
puffed out her hair, bobbed in the latest way and apparently 
electrified to make every hair separate from every other, 
in a whirl around her head, much like a dandelion gone 
to seed. 

Louise watched her as she prinked a moment before 
the mirror, rubbing her small tilted nose with a bit of a dab 
from her hand-bag, touching her eyebrows and lips, and 


206 


RE-CREATIONS 


ruffling out her hair a little wilder than before. The little 
girl was glad that the guest said nothing. Now if she 
could only get her down into the living room before Carey 
suspected! Somehow she felt that it would not be well 
for Carey to know before he came downstairs that that 
girl was in the house. There was no knowing what Carey 
might do. So she led the silent guest downstairs, and 
remarked as they reached the safety of the landing, ‘‘It’s 
a pleasant evening.” 

The guest stepped down, took another survey of the 
astonishingly lovely room, and responded absently: “Yeah! 
It is!” 

“Just sit down, and I will tell my sister you have come,” 
said Louise airily, and vanished with relief, her awful 
duty done. 

Cornelia came in at once, followed by Grace, and 
overwhelmed the young woman with their pleasant wel¬ 
come. Astonishment and wary alertness were uppermost 
in the guest’s face. She had begun to suspect something 
somewhere. She was sharp. She knew a girl of this 
kind would never have chosen her as a guest. Could it 
be that Carey had demanded it? She resented the pres¬ 
ence of this other pretty, quiet girl in a blue organdie with 
no rouge on her face. Who was she, and what did they 
have to invite her for? Was she another of Carey’s 
girls? She sat down uncomfortably on the edge of the 
chair offered her, and tried to pull down her inadequate 
little skirts. Somehow these graceful girls made her feel 
awkward and out of place. 


RE-CREATIONS 


207 


Cornelia excused herself, and went back to the kitchen 
after a few pleasant words; and Grace Kendall took over 
the task of entertaining the silent guest, who eyed her 
sullenly and could not be made to vouchsafe more reply 
to any question than “Yes” or “No.” But Grace had not 
been bom a minister’s daughter for nothing, and she was 
past mistress of all the graces of conversation and of 
making people feel at their ease. She was presently deep 
in the story of a certain set of photographs of strange 
lands that had been gathered by her father in a trip he 
had taken several years before, and the other girl in spite 
of herself was getting interested. 

It is curious how many little things manage to get 
across into one’s consciousness at a time like this. How, 
for instance, did Cornelia in the kitchen, taking up the 
cutlets and placing them on the hot plates, know just the 
precise instant when Brand Barlock’s car drew up before 
the door, and Carey’s clear whistle in the third story 
ceased? She felt it even before the door opened and 
Louise’s excited whisper announced: “He’s come, Nellie! 
Hurry!” and she was even then unbuttoning the big envel¬ 
oping apron and hurrying forward. 

So she met Brand Barlock at the front door with a 
welcoming hand outstretched to greet him, and a hearty 
low-voiced “I’m so glad you could come! Carey doesn’t 
know about it yet, but I expect he’ll see your car out of 
his window. He’s upstairs dressing. Come in. Let me take 
your hat. Mr. Barlock, let me introduce Miss Kendall 
and Miss Dodd.” 


208 


RE-CREATIONS 


Brand Barlock stared. First at Cornelia, swiftly, ap¬ 
provingly, and with an answering smile for her cordial 
one; then at the lovely room which he entered, and gave 
a swift, comprehensive survey; and then at the lovely girl 
in blue who came forward to greet him. 

“Pleased to meet you, I’m sure!” he said giving her a 
direct appraisement, a respectful interest, and shaking her 
hand quite unnecessarily. He was entirely at his ease, and 
altogether accustomed to rapid adjustments to environment 
one could see that at once; yet it was also perceptible that 
he was surprised, and agreeably so. He held Grace 
Kendall’s slim young hand impressively, a trifle longer 
than was in keeping with polite usage, yet not long enough 
to be resented; and his eyes made several sentences prog¬ 
ress in acquaintance with her before he took them from 
her face and let them rest upon Miss Dodd, who had 
at last risen with some show of interest in life again and 
come a step or two forward. Then he stared again. 

“Oh! Hello, Clytie! You here?” he greeted her 
carelessly, and went and sat down beside Miss Kendall. 
His tone said that Clytie Dodd was decidedly out of her 
element, and suddenly under the heavy veneer of white 
Clytie Dodd grew deeply red. Cornelia with a glance 
took in all these things, and a wave of sudden compas¬ 
sion swept over her, too, for the girl whom she had thus 
placed in a trying position. Had she done well? She 
could not tell. But it was too late now. She must go 
forward and make it a success. She tried to make it up 
by smiling at the girl pleasantly. 


RE-CREATIONS 


209 


“Now, if you will just talk a minute or two, I think 
Carey will be down soon. It is time for father’s car to 
come, and we’ll have dinner at once.” Cornelia disap¬ 
peared through the dining-room door again. 

Just at that precise moment Arthur Maxwell slowed 
up his car at the corner where Mr. Copley’s trolley was 
about to stop, and looked perplexedly about him, study¬ 
ing the houses on either side. 

“I beg your pardon,” he said politely, as Mr. Copley 
got out of the trolley and crossed the street in front 
of him. “Could you tell me if there is a family by the 
name of Copley about here ? I seem to have mislaid the 
address, but my memory of it is that they live somewhere 
along this block or the next.” 

“Copley’s my name, sir,” said Mr. Copley with his 
genial smile. “What can I do for you?” 

“Glad to meet you, Mr. Copley,” said Maxwell cor¬ 
dially. “I’ve had no end of a time finding your house. 
Thought I could go directly to it, but find my memory 
wasn’t so good as I banked on. I must have left the 
address at home, after all. I’ve a box here to deliver to 
your daughter. You have a daughter, haven’t you?” 

“Why, yes, two of them,” said the father, smiling. 
He liked this pleasant young man with the handsome smile 
and the expensive car, asking after his daughter. This 
was his idea of the kind of friends he would like his 
daughters to have if he had the choosing. “I guess you 
mean Cornelia. I suppose you’re somebody she met 
at college.” 

14 


RE-CREATIONS 


210 

“No, nothing so good as that. I can’t really claim 
anything but a second-hand acquaintance. It was my 
mother who met her on a journey to Philadelphia some 
months ago. Mother quite fell in love with her, I believe; 
and she’s sent her some ferns, which she asked me to 
deliver. Suppose you get in, and I’ll take you the rest 
of the way. Is it in this block?” 

Mr. Copley swung his long limbs into the seat beside 
the young man. 

“No, the next block, middle of the block, just at the 
top of the hill, right-hand side,” he said. “I remember 
Comie speaking of your mother. She was very kind, 
and Cornie enjoyed her. It certainly is good of her to 
remember my little girl. Ferns!” He looked back at the 
box. “She certainly will like those. She’s a great one 
for fixing up the house, and putting flowers about and 
growing things. She’ll be pleased to see you. Here’s the 
house, the one with the stone chimney. Yes, that’s new, 
my son built it since Cornie came home. She wanted 
a fireplace. Now you’ll come right in. Cornie ’ll want to 
thank you.” 

“Thank you,” said the young man, lifting out the 
heavy box. “That won’t be necessary. She can thank 
mother sometime when she sees her. I’ll just put the box 
here on the porch, shall I ?—and not detain your daughter. 

1 I really ought to be getting along. I haven’t had my 
dinner yet.” 

“Oh, then you’ll come right in and take dinner with 
us. The young people will be delighted to have you, I 


RE-CREATIONS 


211 


know. Cornie said they were going to have a company 
supper tonight because it’s my son’s birthday, twenty-one. 
I’d like you to meet my son; that is, I’d like him to know 
you, you know”; and the father smiled a confiding smile. 

“Oh, but really,” Arthur Maxwell began. 

But Mr. Copley had a detaining hand upon the young 
man’s arm. 

“We couldn’t really let you go this way, you know,” 
said the father. “We couldn’t think of it. We haven’t 
any very grand hospitality to offer you, but we can’t let 
you go away without being thanked. Cornie!” 

Mr. Copley threw wide the door of the living room. 
“Cornie, here’s Mr. Maxwell. He’s brought you some 
ferns, and he’s going to stay to dinner with us. Put on 
another plate.” 

It was just at this instant that Carey Copley, humming 
his jazzy tune and fumbling with a refractory cuff-link, 
started down the front stairs, and paused in wild dismay. 


CHAPTER XVIII 


Cornelia, alert to make everything pass off smoothly,, 
and aware that Carey was coming down the stairs, had 
slipped off her apron and entered the living room exactly 
as her father flung open the front door. Now she came 
forward easily, brightly, as if strange guests flung at her 
feast at the last moment were a common occurrence in 
her life, and greeted this tall, handsome stranger. 

“The plate’s all on,” she answered gayly, putting out 
a welcoming hand and meeting a pair of very nice, very 
curious, wholly interested eyes that for the moment she 
wasn’t aware of ever having seen before. She was aware 
only of the eight plates back in the oven keeping piping 
hot, and the eight places at the pretty table, and the awful 
thing that her father had done to her already incongruous 
party, and wondering what she should do. Then suddenly 
she recognized the young man; and a pretty color flew 
into her cheeks, and a brightness into her eyes. The room 
with its strange guests, Grace Kendall trying to interest 
Brand and Clyde in her lapful of photographs, Carey 
standing on the stair-landing, even her young brother 
and sister peeping curiously in at the dining-room door, 
fell away, and she put out her hand in real welcome to 
this stranger. An instant more, and her pulses swept 
wildly back into frightened array again, and her thoughts 
bustled around with troubles and fears. What should 
she do now? How would he ever mix? That awful drl 

o 

212 


RE-CREATIONS 


213 


with her face all flour! That slam-bang Brand with his 
slang and bold indifference! How could she ever make 
the party a success, the party over which she had so 
worked and prayed and hoped ? And Carey! Would he 
vanish out the back door? The birthday candles around 
the cake were all lighted. Harry had lighted them as 
she came in. If Carey should bolt, how could they ever 
go out into that dining-room, into the flicker of those 
foolish pink candles, and have a birthday dinner without 
the chief guest? 

‘‘Oh, but, indeed, I couldn’t think of intruding,” the 
young man’s words interrupted her anxious thoughts. “I 
merely dropped in on my way to dinner to leave this box 
of ferns that my mother sent with very explicit directions 
to be delivered to you at once before they died. As I’m 
not much of a florist myself, and as they have already 
had to wait all day without water, I’m ashamed to say, 
I wouldn’t answer for the consequences if I hadn’t got 
them here tonight. Mother is very particular about hav¬ 
ing her directions carried out. I hope the ferns will live 
and be worthy of this most beautiful setting”; his glance 
went appreciatively about the pretty room. “You cer¬ 
tainly look cozy here, and I know you’re going to have a 
beautiful time. I won’t keep you a minute longer.” 

There was something wistful in his tone even as he 
lifted his ■ \t to put it on and began backing out the door. 
Cornelia’s resolve to let him go was fast weakening even 
before her father spoke up. 

“Daughter, Mr. Maxwell has come four miles out of 


214 


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his way to bring those ferns, and it will be late before 
he gets any dinner. He ought to stay. I told him he 
was welcome.” 

Cornelia’s cheeks flamed, but a smile came into her 
eyes. 

“We shall be very glad to have you stay,” she urged 
gently, “unless—some one else is waiting for you.” 

A quick flush mounted into the young man’s face and 
he suddenly felt strangely loath to have this clear-eyed 
girl think that anyone was waiting for him. He would 
not like her to know what kind of girl was expecting 
his coming. 

“Oh, it’s not that”—he managed to say lamely,” but I 
simply couldn’t think of butting into a family party like 
this.” His eyes glanced about questioningly, hesitating 
at Brand and pausing with a reflective wonder‘at Clytie 
in the background. 

“But it’s not a family party,” said Cornelia laugh¬ 
ingly; “it’s just a few friends called in to help us celebrate 
my brother’s birthday, and—they don’t even know one 
another very well yet; so won’t you come in and be another ? 
We really would be glad to have you, and we’ll try to 
make you feel at home. We’re not a bit formal or formi¬ 
dable. Let me introduce my brother Carey. Carey, come 
here and meet Mr. Maxwell. You remember my telling 
how nice his mother was to me on the way home 
from college.” 

She was talking fast, and the pretty color was in her 
cheeks. She was aware that the stranger was watching 


RE-CREATIONS 


215 


her admiringly. Her heart was thumping and the blood 
was surging through her ears so that it seemed as though 
she could not hear anything but her own high-pitched 
voice, and she wanted nothing so much as to break out 
crying and run and hide. Would Carey come, or would 

Carey came, dazed, but polite. He was well dressed 
and groomed, and he knew it. He had no objection to 
meeting a pleasant stranger who owned a car like the one 
he had seen drive up at the door before he had left his 
room. Carey had a habit of judging a man by his car. 
The two young men appraised each other pleasantly, and 
there seemed to be a mutual liking. Then suddenly Brand 
Barlock, never allowing himself long to be left out of 
consideration, came noisily over to the group, and slapped 
Carey on the back. 

“Hello, old man! Got a birthday, have you ?' ’ 

“Oh, hello, Brand! Forgot you were here. Say your 
car out the window. Meet Mr. Maxwell, Mr. Barlock,” 
and the two acknowledged the introduction. 

“My father, Brand.” 

Mr. Copley spoke graciously to the young man, yet 
with a degree of dignity, looking him over speculatively. 
This was not the kind of young man he would choose 
for his son’s intimate; yet he regarded him with leniency. 

Suddenly Carey turned and saw Grace Kendall. 

“Oh, I say, Miss Kendall! This is awfully good of 
you.” He took a step, and shook hands with her. “Say, 
this is a real party, after all, isn’t it? A surprise party. 


216 


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Upon my word I thought Cornelia was kidding me when 
she said we were going to have a birthday party. ,, 

Grace Kendall laughed, and clapped her hands, and 
all the rest followed her example. In the din of laughter 
and clapping Carey suddenly sighted Clytie glowering back 
by the fireplace, and a wave of panic swept over his face. 
He turned startled eyes on his sister and father, and stood 
back while Cornelia introduced their guests to Maxwell 
and her father. He wondered how she could say “Miss 
Dodd” so easily, and how she had got acquainted with 
Clytie. His cheeks began to burn. Then she must have 
seen him that day on Chestnut Street, after all. And 
Louise had talked too! And yet his sister’s face was sweet 
and innocent! 

Then he became aware that an appeal was being made 
to him to keep the young stranger to dinner and that the 
stranger was protesting that lie could not thrust himself 
on a birthday party in this way. Carey roused to the 
occasion, and gave an eager invitation. 

“Of course you’re going to stay to my party!” But 
even as he said it he wondered what a man of Maxwell's 
evident type would think of a girl like Clytie. Oh, if 
only she weren’t here! And Grace Kendall! What must 
she think ? He stole a look at her, standing there so grace¬ 
fully in that blue dress like a cloud, talking to Brand. 
What business did Brand have looking at her like that 
as if he had known her always ? Now Brand would rush 
her. Carey could see that Brand liked her. He always 


RE-CREATIONS 


217 


rushed a girl he took a notion to. He would take her 
out riding in that car of his, and— 

But everybody was talking now, and Cornelia had 
called upon him to bring in the box of ferns. She herself 
had suddenly disappeared into the kitchen, and was stand¬ 
ing against the closed door, pressing her hand against her 
forehead and trying to think. 

“What shall we do, Louie, dear? What shall we do? 
Father has invited that man.” Cornelia found she was 
trembling; even her lips were trembling so she could 
hardly speak. 

“Do?” said Louise maturely. “Well go right ahead. 
We heard it all. Harry has fixed it up that he’ll stay out 
and help. There’s plenty of things left over for him 
to eat, and I’ll fix him a plate between times.” 

“I can fix my own plate,” growled Harry happily. “You 
know I didn’t want to sit in there with all those folks any 
of the time.” 

“But Harry! It’s Carey’s party, and you not at it!” 

“Sure! I’m at it! I’m it! Don’t you see? I’m the 
chauffeur running this car. I’m the chef cooking this 
dinner! Get out there quick, Cornie, and file those folks 
into their seats. This soup is getting cold, and they ought 
to get to work. That’s a good guy; and he’s got some car, 
I’ll tell the world!” 

So Cornelia went back to marshall the party out to 
the table. Maxwell was turning to leave, saying once 
more that it was awfully kind of them to ask him but he 
could not possibly stay. And just then the dining-room 


218 


RE-CREATIONS 


door was flung open by Harry and the whole company 
stopped and breathed a soft “Ah!” as they saw the 
pretty candle-lit room. Then as one man they went for¬ 
ward and began to search for their places, all save Maxwell 
who went forward indeed to get a closer glimpse of the 
pretty table, but lingered in the doorway. There was 
something so wholesome and home-like about the place, 
something so interesting and free from self-consciousness 
about the girl, that he was held in spite of himself. He 
had not realized that there were such girls as this in 
his day. He was curious to watch her and see if she 
really was different. 

So far Carey had not even spoken to his own special 
guest, Clytie. Since he had sighted her afar he had religi¬ 
ously kept his eyes turned away from her vicinity. 

It was Grace Kendall who took her by the arm and 
led her to her seat at the right of the host, for Cornelia 
had known she could depend upon her father’s kindliness 
to make all go smoothly during the supper; and, much as 
he might dislike the looks of the girl, she felt sure he 
would be polite and see that she was well taken care of. 
Brand Barlock was on Clyde’s right with Louise next, 
and she had placed Carey opposite Clytie, not liking to 
seem to separate them too much, and yet not wishing to 
throw them together too conspicuously. Grace Kendall 
was on Carey’s left, with Harry’s place next her. This 
would have to be for the stranger, and would place him 
* on Cornelia’s right, the fitting place for the guest of honor; 
yet—her cheeks burned. What would he think? Still, 


RE-CREATIONS 


219 


he had come unannounced. He had stayed. Let him 
take the consequences! What did she care what he 
thought? She would likely never see him again. 

Perhaps he was not going to stay, after all. He was 
lingering still in the doorway, but seemed just about to go. 

Suddenly from behind her came a low whistle: 

“Hist! Whist!” 

Harry from behind the kitchen door was signalling 
violently, forgetting that his white shirt-sleeve in his 
excited gestures was as visible to the rest of the company 
as to the astonished young man in the opposite doorway 
about to take a hasty leave. 

“Oh, I say! Come ’ere!” came Harry’s sepulchral 
whisper, as he beckoned wildly with a hand that uncon¬ 
sciously still grasped a muggy dish-towel. 

“Are you—calling me ?” young Maxwell signalled with 
his lifted eyebrows. 

Harry’s response was unmistakable, and the young 
man slipped past the group who were studying place cards 
and sliding into chairs and bent his head to the retreating 
head of the boy. 

“I say, don’t you see I don’t want to come in there with 
all those folks? Be a good sport, and stay, ’r I’ll have to. 
I'd ruther stay out here and dish ice-cream. You go take 
my chair. That’s a good guy.” 

Maxwell smiled with sudden illumination, and lifted 
his eyes to find that Cornelia had heard the whole affair. 

“All right, old man, I’ll stay,” said the young man. 


220 


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“You win. Perhaps you’ll let me come into the kitchen 
afterwards and help clean up.” 

“Sure!” said Harry joyfully, with the tone of having 
found a pal. “We’ll be glad to have you, won’t 
we Cornie?” 

To himself Maxwell said: “It will be just as well to 
go later to see Evadne. Better in fact. I don’t want her 
to think I’m too keen. I can have more time to decide 
what to say to her. This is a good atmosphere in which to 
decide. Besides, I’m hungry and the dinner smells good. 
It would be ages before we got settled to eating at the 
roof garden or some cabaret. I’d have to go home 
arid dress. 5 ’ 

Then he became aware that Cornelia was speaking 
to him. 

Cornelia’s cheeks were red as roses, and there was 
a <ook in her laughing eyes as if tears were not far off; 
but she carried the thing off bravely, and declared that 
those things could be settled later; they really must sit 
down now, or the dinner would be spoiled. So they all 
sat down, and there was a moment’s awkward silence till 
Mr. Copley bowed his head and asked a blessing, Clytie 
and Brand openly staring the while. When it was over, 
Maxwell discovered the place card with “Harry” on it, 
and gravely deposited it in his vestpocket, saying in a 
low tone to Cornelia: “I shall make this up to him later.” 

“You mustn’t think you’re depriving him,” said Cor¬ 
nelia, smiling and lifting her spoon to the luscious cup of 
iced fruit. “He really has tried in every way he knew 


RE-CREATIONS 


221 


short of running away to get out of coming to the table. 
He knows he has me in a corner now, and he’s tremen¬ 
dously pleased; so don’t think another thing about it. Sup¬ 
pose you play you’re one of our old friends, and then it 
won’t worry you any more. It’s really awfully nice of you 
to come in this way.” 

But all the time in her heart she was wondering why, 
oh, why, did this have to happen just this night when she 
wanted to devote all her energies to making the other 
people feel at home, and now she was so distracted she 
didn’t know what she was saying ? 

However, the other people seemed to be getting along 
famously. When she glanced up, she saw that her father 
was talking pleasantly to Clytie, keeping her at least em¬ 
ployed with questions to answer, about where she lived, and 
how her father was employed, and whether she had 
brothers and sisters. He had just asked: “And what 
school do you attend? High school, I suppose?” and 
Cornelia caught a fleeting glance of annoyance on Carey’s 
face as she replied with a giggle: 

“Oh, my goodness, no! I quit school when I was 
thirteen. I couldn’t stand the pace. Too dull for me!” 


CHAPTER XIX 


Carey turned to Grace eagerly, and began to ask about 
Christian Endeavor. Cornelia wondered at his sudden 
interest in matters religious, and perceived that Brand 
had been carrying on a lively conversation with Grace 
across the table, and Carey had cut in. She felt like a 
person who has jumped into an aeroplane, somehow 
started it, and knows nothing of running or stopping it. 
She had started this thing, and this was what had developed 
and now she would have to watch the consequences. 

Yet it appeared there was no opportunity to watch 
the consequences, much as she so desired. The young 
man on her right was determined to talk to her. He had 
drawn Louise into the little circle also, and Louise was 
smiling shyly, and evidently pleased. Cornelia could not 
help noticing how sweet the little girl looked with the 
wild-rose color in her cheeks and the little soft tendrils 
of curls about her face. The organdie dress certainly 
was becoming, and she must get at it right away and make 
some more pretty clothes for the dear child. 

Then her eyes travelled down the table once more. 
Brand was laughing uproariously; Clytie was endeavoring 
to get in on his conversation and divert it to herself, and 
Carey was looking like a thunder-cloud and talking very 
rapidly and eagerly to Grace Kendall. How handsome 
ke looked in his new necktie \ How the blue brought out 


RE-CREATIONS 


223 

the blue of his eyes! And how dear and good and kindly 
polite her father looked! Then she noticed with a panic 
that the fruit-cups were nearly empty, and it was time 
for the soup. Would Harry and Louise be able to make 
the transfer of dishes without any mishaps? She had not 
felt nervous about it before till this elegant stranger had 
appeared on the scene. She knew by his looks that he 
was used to having everything just so. She remembered 
his mother’s immaculate attire, the wonderful glimpse she 
had caught of the fittings of her travelling-bag, every¬ 
thing silver-mounted and monogrammed. This man would 
know if the soup was not seasoned just right and the dishes 
were served at the wrong side. 

Perhaps she was a little distraught as Louise slipped 
silently from her seat, and took the empty dishes on her 
little tray that had stood unseen by the side of her chair. 

“What a charming little sister!” said Maxwell. 

Cornelia’s heart glowed, and she looked up with an 
appreciative smile. 

“She is a darling!” she said earnestly. “I’m just get¬ 
ting to know her again since I came home from college. 
She was only a baby when I went away.” 

He looked interestedly at the sweet older sister. “I 
should imagine that might be a very delightful occupation. 
I think I should like an opportunity myself to get ac¬ 
quainted with her. And say, suppose you tell me about 
*hese other people. Now Pm here, I’d like to know them 
a little better. I haven’t quite got them all placed. Your; 


224 


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father I know. We came up together, and it doesn’t take 
long to see he’s a real man. I shall enjoy pursuing the 
acquaintance farther if he is willing. But about these 
others. Are they—relatives? This girl at my right, is 
she another sister, or only a friend?” 

“Oh, she is our minister’s daughter,” answered Cor¬ 
nelia brightly. “She’s rather a new friend, because we’ve 
only been living in this part of the city a short time; but 
we like her a lot.” 

“She looks it,” he said heartily. “And the next one 
is your brother. I like his face. He is—a college 
boy, perhaps?” 

“No, he’s only finished high school,” Cornelia said 
with a bit of a sigh. “Mother wanted him to go to col¬ 
lege, but he didn’t seem to want to, and—well—I suppose 
the real truth about it was I was in college and the family 
couldn’t afford to send another. I was blind enough not 
to know I ought to come home and give the next one a 
chance. However, Carey—” 

She looked at him wistfully; and the young man, keenly 
alert to her expression perhaps read a bit of her thoughts. 

“College isn’t always the only thing,” he said quickly. 
“You, being a college woman, have naturally thought so, 
I suppose; but upon my word I think sometimes it’s more 
harm than good to a boy to go to college.” 

Cornelia gave him a grateful smile, and he saw that 
this had been one of her pains and mortifications. He 
liked her more, the more he talked with her. She seemed 


RE-CREATIONS 


225 

to have her family so much at heart. He lifted keen eyes 
to the young man across the table. 

“That’s one of his friends, I suppose?” 

Cornelia nodded half dubiously. 

“He owns the car at the door?” 

“Yes.” There was a whole volume expressed in her 
tone. 

The keen eyes looked Brand over a second. “Interest¬ 
ing face,” he commented. “Does he belong to the auto¬ 
mobile Barlocks?” 

“Why, I don’t know,” said Cornelia. “I’ve only just 
come home, you know. He’s Carey’s friend; that’t all I 
know. I didn’t even remember he had the same name as 
the automobile people.” 

“And who is the other young woman? She is not—a 
minister’s daughter, too?” he asked with an amused twin¬ 
kle in his eyes. 

Cornelia gave him a quick deprecatory glance. “No,” 
she said, half ashamed. “She is just—an experiment.” 

“I see,” he said gravely, giving Clytie Dodd anothei 
keen look. 

“You must be like your mother,” she said, smiling. 
“She seemed to me so interested in just people. And 
she read me like a book. Or perhaps you are 
a psychologist?” 

“You couldn’t give me a greater compliment than to 
tell me I’m like mother. She’s always like that, interested 
in everybody about her, and wondering what circum¬ 
stances helped to form them as they are.” 

15 


226 


RE-CREATIONS 


“It was your mother that gave me the idea of fixing 
up this old house on nothing.” She gave a laughing 
deprecatory glance about. “I was just awfully unhappy 
and discouraged at having to leave college and go to a 
poor little house in a new neighborhood, and she managed 
to leave with me the suggestion of making it all over 
in such a way that I could not get away from it.” 

“You certainly have done wonders,” he said with an 
admiring look about. “That was one reason I was so 
anxious to stay and look around me, the rooms opened 
up so charmingly and were such a surprise. You really 
have made a wonderful place out of it. This room, now, 
looks as if it might have come out of the hands of some 
big city decorator, and yet there is a charm and simplicity 
about it that is wholly in keeping with a quiet home life. 
I like it awfully. I wish mother could see it. Were those 
panels on the walls when you began ?” 

“Oh, no. There was some horrible old faded red wall¬ 
paper, and in some places the plaster was coming off. Carey 
and I had a lot to do to this wall before we could even 
paint it. And there were so many layers of paper we 
thought we never would get it all scraped off.” 

“You had to do all that?” said the young man appre¬ 
ciatively. “It was good you had a brother to help in such 
rough, heavy work.” 

“Yes, Carey has been very much interested. Of course 
he hasn’t had so much time lately, as he could give only 
his evenings. He has been working all day. He built 


RE-CREATIONS 


227 


the fireplace in the living room too. I want you to look 
at that after dinner. I think it is very pretty for an ama¬ 
teur workman/’ 

‘Tie built that fireplace!” exclaimed Maxwell. “Well, 
he certainly did a great thing! I noticed it at once. It 
is the charm of the whole room, and so artistic in its 
lines. I love a beautiful fireplace, and I thought that was 
most unusual. I must look at it again. Your brother 
must be a genius.” 

“No, not a genius,” said Cornelia. “But he always 
could make anything he wanted to. He is very clever 
with tools and machinery, and seems to know by instinct 
how everything is made. When he was a little boy, I 
remember, he used to take everything in the house apart 
and put it together again. I shall never forget the day 
mother got her new carpet-sweeper and was about to 
sweep the parlor, and was called away to answer a knock 
at the back door. When she came back Carey had the 
whole thing apart, strewn all around the room; and mother 
sat down in dismay, and began to scold him. Then she 
told him sadly that he must go upstairs to bed for punish¬ 
ment; and he looked up and said, ‘Why, muvver, don’t 
you want me to put it together again first ?’ And he did. 
He put it all together so it worked all right, and managed 
to get out of his punishment that time.” 

Maxwell glanced down the table at the bright, clever 
face of the young man who was eagerly describing to 
Grace Kendall an automobile race he had witnessed not 
long ago. 


228 


RE-CREATIONS 


“That’s a great gift!” he commented. “Your brother 
ought to make a business success in life. What did you 
say he is doing?” 

Cornelia flushed painfully. 

“That’s the sore point,” she said. “Carey hasn’t any¬ 
thing very good just now, though he has one or two 
hopeful possibilities in the near future. He is just work¬ 
ing in a garage now, getting together all the money he 
can save to be ready for the right job when it comes along. 
Father is rather distressed to have him doing such work; 
he says he is wasting his time. But it is good pay, and 
I think it is better than doing nothing and just hanging 
around waiting. Besides, he is crazy about machinery, 
seems to have a natural instinct for finding out what’s 
the matter with a thing; and of course automobiles—he 
would rather fuss with one than eat.” 

“It’s not a bad training for some big thing in the future, 
you know,” said Maxwell. “There are lots of jobs today 
where a practical knowledge of machinery and especially 
of cars is worth a lot of money. I wouldn’t be discouraged 
about it. He looks like an awfully clever fellow. He’ll 
land the right thing pretty soon. I like his personality. 
That’s another thing that will count in his favor. I want 
to get acquainted with him after dinner. Say, do you know 
you have let me in for an awfully interesting evening?” 

“Why, that’s very nice,” said Cornelia, suddenly realiz¬ 
ing that she had forgotten to worry about Louise’s getting 
the next course on the table safely; and here it was, hot 
and inviting, and she sitting back and talking like a guest. 


RE-CREATIONS 


£29 

What a dear little capable sister it was, and how quietly 
Harry was keeping the machinery in the kitchen going! 

Everybody seemed to be having a nice time; even 
Clytie Dodd was listening to something her father was 
telling, something about a young man where he worked 
who had risked his life to save a comrade in danger. Clytie 
was subdued, that was certain. Something, either the 
formality of the meal, or the impressiveness of the guests, 
had quieted her voice and suppressed her bold manner. 
She was not talking much herself, and she was not feeling 
quite so self-sufficient as when she came. It was most 
plain that she was quite out of her element in such an 
atmosphere, but she was a girl who was quick to observe 
and adjust herself to her environment. This might not 
be her native atmosphere, but she knew enough to keep still 
and keep her eyes open. Cornelia noticed that she was 
being left very much to herself so far as the two young 
men were concerned, and perhaps this had something to 
do with the subduing influence. Clytie was not a girl 
who cared for the background very long. She was one 
who forced herself into the limelight. Was it possible 
that just a little formality and a few strangers had changed 
her so completely? Perhaps she was not so bad, after all, 
as the children had led her to suppose. Just a poor little 
ignorant child who was trying her untaught hand at vamp¬ 
ing. There might even be a way to help her, though 
Cornelia felt opposed to trying it when Carey was about. 
She could not yet consider Carey in the light of a com¬ 
panion of this girl without mortification. In all that little 


RE-CREATIONS 


2S0 

circle around the table her common little painted face 
shone up as being out of place, unrefined, uncultured, 
utterly untaught. 

More and more as the courses came on the table Clvtie 
grew silent and impressed; and, as the meal drew tc its 
close, Cornelia gained confidence. The dainty salad had 
been eaten with avidity; the delectable ice in its pale-green 
dreamy beauty had come on in due time and brought an 
exclamation of wonder from the whole company, who 
demanded to know what it was, and tasted it as one might 
sample a dish of ambrosia, and praised and tasted again. 

There was much laughter and fun over the blowing 
out of the candles by Carey and the cutting of the angel 
cake, which also brought a round of applause. Cornelia 
poured the amber coffee into the little pink cups that looked 
like sea-shells, and finally the meal was concluded and 
the company arose to go into the living room. 

Then Clytie came into her own again. It seemed that 
rising from the formalities of the table had given her 
back her confidence once more. Seizing hold of Carey’s 
arm as he stood near her, she exclaimed: 

“Come on, Kay, let’s go have a dance and shake some 
of this down. I’m full clear up to my eyes. Haven’t you 
got a victrola? Turn it on, do. I’m dying for a dance!” 


CHAPTER XX 


By this time they were in the living room and in full 
view of the whole company. Cornelia was standing in 
the doorway, with Maxwell just behind. 

It seemed that Clytie had chosen the moment when 
her remark would be best heard by every one, and a horrible 
silence followed it, as if some deadly explosive had sud¬ 
denly been flung down in their midst. Maxwell heard a 
sudden little breathless exclamation from Cornelia. He 
flung a swift glance around the company. Grace Kendall 
stood quietly apart. Brand Barlock looked amused with 
a keen appraisement of the effect of Clyde’s words on 
every one present. Carey, caught by the unexpected 
momentum of the girl’s action, was whirled about in spite 
of himself, and recovered his balance angrily, flinging 
her off. 

“What’s the matter with you ?” he said in a low, mut¬ 
tering tone; then, trying to recover his politeness in the 
face of everybody, he added haughtily, “No, we haven’t 
got a victrola, I’m thankful to say!” and he cast a swift 
furtive glance at the minister’s daughter. What must 
she think of him for having a girl like that make free 
with him. His face was crimson, and for the first time 
since he had known Clytie Dodd he put the question to 
himself whether she was exactly the kind of girl he wanted 
for an intimate friend. 


281 


232 


RE-CREATIONS 


The silence in the room was intense. There seemed to 
be a kind of spell over the onlookers that no one was 
able to break. Clytie looked defiantly about upon them, 
and felt she had the floor. 

“Oh, well, be a boob if you want. You ain’t the only 
pebble on the beach. Come on, Brand. Let’s do the 
shimmy. You can whistle if no one knows how to play.” 
It was plain that she was angry, and did not care what 
she said or did. Carey had turned white and miserable, 
Cornelia looked ready to drop. Young Maxwell noticed 
the worn hands of the father clinch and his face grow 
gray and drawn. Mr. Copley gave the impression that 
he would like above all things to take Clytie in thumb 
and finger and, holding her at arm’s length, eject her from 
the room as one would get rid of some vulgar little animal 
that was making an unpleasant scene. 

The young man gave one more swift look at the an¬ 
noyed face of the girl beside him, and then stepped for¬ 
ward, noticing as he did so that even Brand was a bit 
annoyed at the turn affairs had taken. Even he saw that 
Clytie’s suggestion was out of place. 

“Miss Dodd,” said Maxwell in a clear, commanding 
voice, with a pleasant smile that at once held Clytie Dodd’s 
attention. She turned to him eagerly, all too evidently 
expecting he was going to offer to dance with her; and 
the rest of the little audience stood in breathless waiting.. 
“I’m sure you won’t mind if we interrupt you. Miss 
Copley was just going to play for some singing. You’ll 


RE-CREATIONS 


233 


join us, of course. Fm sure you have a good voice, and 
we want everybody. Let’s all gather around the piano.” 

He turned with a swift appeal to Cornelia to bear 
him out. He had taken a chance, of course. What if 
Miss Copley did not play? But there was the piano, and 
there was music scattered about. Somebody must play. 

A little breathless gasp went from one to another in 
visible relief as Cornelia came forward quickly, summon¬ 
ing a wan smile to her lips, trying to steady her fingers to 
select something from the mass of music on the piano 
that would meet the present need. Her music did not 
include many popular favorites, a few that Carey had 
brought home, that was all. But this if ever was the time 
to bring it forth. Ah! Here was “Tim Rooney’s at the 
Fightin’.” It would do as well as anything, and she placed 
it on the piano, and forced her fingers into the opening 
chords, not daring to look around the room, wondering 
what Clytie Dodd was doing now, and how she was taking 
her interruption. 

But Maxwell was not idle. She felt his protective 
presence behind her. He was summoning every one into 
the chorus, even the father; and he asked Clytie Dodd 
whether she didn’t sing alto, a challenge which won a 
giggling acknowledgment from her. 

“I thought so,” he said. “I can almost always tell 
when people sing alto. Then come over on this side of 
the piano with me. I sing bass; and Mr. Copley, are 
you bass, too? I thought so. Now, you two fellows,”— 
turning to Brand and Carey, who were standing abashed 


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£34 

in the background, uncomfortable and half ready to bolt, 
but much impressed by the tactics of the stranger,—“it's 
up to you to sing tenor. YouVe got to, whether you can 
or not, you know, because we can’t do it, and it’s obvious 
that we have to have four parts. Miss Kendall sings 
soprano, doesn’t she? And Miss Copley. Now, we’re 
off! Give us those chords again, please.” 

He started off himself with a splendid voice, and even 
a lame singer found it easy to follow. They all had good 
voices, and, while no one felt exactly like singing after 
a big dinner, they nevertheless stumbled along bravely, 
and before the second verse was reached were making quite 
a gallant chorus. 

Before they had sung three songs they were quite in 
the spirit of the thing; and Harry and Louise, emerging 
from a last delicious dish of water-ice, joined in heartily, 
lending their young voices vigorously. Clytie proved to 
have a tolerable voice. It was a bit louder than was neces¬ 
sary, with a nasal twang now and then; but it blended 
well with the other voices, and was not too obvious. Even 
Mr. Copley seemed to have forgotten the unpleasant hap¬ 
pening of a few moments before, and was singing as lustily 
as when he was a young man. 

Only Cornelia felt the tense strain of it all. They 
could not sing always. Sometime it would have to stop, 
and what would happen then? The wonderful stranger 
could not always be expected to step in and pilot the little 
ship of the evening safely past all rocks. He had done 
wonders, and she would never cease to be grateful to 


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236 

him, but, oh, if he would go home at once as soon as they 
stopped singing, and not be there to witness further vul¬ 
garities ! Grace Kendall, too. But then Grace understood 
somewhat. Grace was a minister’s daughter. What, oh, 
what could they do next to suppress that awful girl? 

Cornelia’s head throbbed, and her face grew white and 
anxious. She cast an occasional glance at Carey who was 
singing away vigorously out of the same book with Grace 
Kendall, and wished she might weave a spell and waft 
all the rest of the guests away, leaving her brother to the 
influence of this sweet, natural girl. How could she 
manage to obviate another embarrassing situation? But 
it seemed as if the brain that had brought out so many 
lovely changes in a dismal old house, that had planned so 
carefully every detail of this evening and looked far ahead 
to results in the lives of her dear ones, had utterly refused 
to act any longer. Her nerve was shaken, and she could 
scarcely keep the tears back. Oh, if there were some one 
to help her! Then her heart took up its newly acquired 
habit, and cried out to God: “O God, send me help. What 
shall I do next ?” 

As if young Maxwell read her thoughts, he turned at 
the close of the song, and, addressing them all promiscu¬ 
ously, said: “I guess we’re about sung out for a while, 
aren’t we? I’m hoarse as a fog-horn. Miss Dodd, why 
don’t you teach me how to play this game? I’ve been 
looking at it for quite a while, and it fascinates me. I 
believe I could beat you at it. Suppose we try.” 

Clytie giggled, quite flattered. It was a feather m 


2S6 


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her cap to have this handsome stranger paying her marked 
attention. His car was even finer than Brand Barlock’s. 
Not so sporty, perhaps, but much sweller. And the man 
was older, besides. It was something wonderful to have 
made a hit with him. She preened herself, still giggling, 
and sat down at the table, eying with indulgent curiosity 
the little board with its colored squares and bright 
carved men. 

“I d’no’z I know m’self,” she vouchsafed, glinting her 
beringed fingers among the bits of colored wood. “Whad- 
daya do, anyhow?” 

Cornelia, with a flush of gratitude in her face, gave a 
brief clew to the object of the game; and they were soon 
deep in the attempt to get their men each into the other’s 
territory first. 

Clytie was clever and soon got the idea of the game. 
She might have grown restive under it and petulant if 
she had been playing with some people, but Maxwell could 
be interesting when he chose to exert himself; and he was 
choosing just now, studying the calibre of the girl before 
him and leading her in spite of herself to take a real inter¬ 
est in what she was doing. To tell the truth, Clytie was 
interested in a man of almost any kind, especially if he was 
good-looking, but this particular man was a specimen 
different from any that had ever come into her path in a 
friendly way before. She had met such men as this only 
in a business way when she was ordered curtly to write 
a business letter over again or told she could not hold 
her position in an office unless she stopped chewing gum 


RE-CREATIONS 


237 


and talking so much to the other stenographers. Never 
had a man of this sort stepped down from his height to 
be really nice to her; and she was not only astonished, but 
pleased at it. There was nothing of the personal about 
his manner, just a nice, pleasant, friendly way of taking 
it for granted that she liked being talked to, and was as 
good as anybody; and it gave her a new feeling of self- 
respect that she would never forget, even if she never met 
the man again. 

Cornelia, watching furtively and thankfully from her 
comer where she was showing Brand Barlock a book of 
college photographs and explaining some of the college 
jokes inscfibed beneath them, marvelled at his patience 
and skill. She had not known him long, only two hours; 
but he was so obviously of another world from this girl, 
and yet was making her feel so entirely comfortable and 
happy, that she felt humiliated and ashamed that she had 
not been able to do the same for the girl. She had invited 
her with a real feeling that she might be able to help her 
somehow; at least, that was what she thought she had 
for one of her objects; but now she began to suspect that 
perhaps she had in reality desired to humiliate the girl 
and put her into such a position that Carey would not 
want to go with her any longer. The girl had shown that 
she was unhappy and out of her element, and Cornelia 
had not helped her to find any possible basis for under¬ 
standing with those about her. It was all wrong, and she 
ought to have gone further into things and planned to 
uplift that girl, even if she didn’t want to lift her up to 


RE-CREATIONS 


*8S 

the social plane of her own brother. There might be 
senses in which Carey wasn’t so very much higher than 
the girl, too. He needed uplifting a lot. Of course that 
girl wouldn’t help lift him nor he her as things 
were; but Cornelia had had no right whatever to humble 
her for the sake of saving her brother. 

Maxwell was tactful. He managed to draw Louise 
and Brand Barlock into the game after a while; and, when 
they had grown tired of that, he led them into the dining¬ 
room, where Carey and Grace had just finished a game 
of ping-pong on the dining-room table, and insisted that 
they four play a set. Brand soon gave up his racket to 
Harry, and drifted into the other room; but it was half 
past ten when the others came back into the living room, 
where Grace Kendall was singing some Scotch songs, and 
sat down to listen. 

Cornelia looked at Clytie Dodd in surprise. All the 
boldness and impudence had melted out of her face, with 
much of the paint and powder that had been transferred 
to her handkerchief during the heated excitement of the 
game. Her hair had lost its tortured look, and her face 
was just that of an ordinary happy little girl who had 
been having a good, healthy time. She felt almost on an 
equality with the people around her because this nice man 
had been nice to her. She rather hated that yellow-haired 
girl in blue who had absorbed the attention of her own 
two special satellites, but what were they but kids beside 
this man of the world? She stole a look at his fine, strong 
face, and had perhaps a fleeting vision of what it might 


RE-CREATIONS 


239 

be to nave a man friend such as he was; and who shall 
say but a fleeting revelation, too, of what a girl must be 
to have such a friend? She saw him look across the room 
to where his young hostess sat, and smile, a smile with a 
kind of mysterious light to it like signal-lights at sea. 
She looked curiously to where Carey’s sister sat, and saw 
with a startled new insight how young and really lovely 
this girl was; and she sat silent, a little wondering, in 
unwonted thoughtfulness. 

Grace Kendall finished her song, and suddenly whirled 
around on the piano-stool, and looked at her watch. 

“Oh, my dear!” she said, glancing up at Cornelia. “Do 
you see what time it is? And I have to be up at half 
past five tomorrow morning to get father’s breakfast be¬ 
fore he goes to New York. I must say, ‘Good night,’ and 
hurry right home.” 

Both Carey and Brand rose, and hurried up to her in 
a confidential way. 

“I’ll take you—” began Carey. 

“My car is right at the door,” put in Brand dictator* 
ially. “I’ll take you, of course.” 

Carey looked vexed, then met Brand’s eyes sheepishly. 

“Well, I’ll take her, and you can drive,” he said; and 
then suddenly they both looked at Clytie, and their tongues 
clove to the roofs of their mouths, for Clytie had risen 
with black brows, her sullen, defiant glance returning. 

Then Maxwell stepped forward as if he had heard 
Slothing. 


no 


RE-CREATIONS 


“Miss Dodd, my car is here. I’ll be glad to see that 
you get safely home”; and Clytie’s face cleared. She sped 
upstairs to get her wraps. 

“Haven’t we had a beautiful time ?” said Grace Kendall, 
putting an intimate arm around her as they reached the 
top of the stairs. “I think they’re just charming people. 
Do you know you have a lovely alto voice ? Do you live 
near here? We’d love to have you in our young people’s 
choir if you don’t belong somewhere else.” 

“Where is’t ?” asked Clytie casually, half suspiciously. 
She was surprised that there was no look of rivalry in 
the face of the girl who had obviously carried off both 
the younger men from her following; but it seemed as 
if this strangely sweet girl did not realize that 
she had done such a thing, did not even seem to have 
wanted to do it. Clytie suddenly smiled, and showed the 
first glimpse of real simplicity and childlikeness that had 
been visible that evening. She was little more than a child, 
anyway, and perhaps would not have gone in her present 
ways if any other that promised a little pleasure had 
been opened to her. 

“No, I don’t b’long nowheres,” she giggled, “not since 
I was a kid. I useta go ta two er three Sunday schools, 
but I cut ’em all out after I grew up. Took too much 
time. I like my Sundays fer fun. That’s when you 
get the most auto rides, you know. But I wouldn’t mind 
singing sometime, mebbe.” 

When they came downstairs, they were arm in arm 
and chatting quite pleasantly. Grace had promised to 


RE-CREATIONS 


241 


come and see her, and take her to Christian Endeavor 
the next Sunday night and introduce her to the leader 
of the young people’s choir; and Cornelia, waiting to re¬ 
ceive her guests’ farewell, wondered and was thankful. 

They all went out together, talking a bit loudly and 
hilariously, Clytie’s voice now raised in her old shrill, 
uncultured clang. Maxwell lingering for a moment in the 
doorway, spoke to Cornelia. 

“I want to thank you for letting me come.” 

She turned to him with a look of suffering in her eyes. 

“I don’t know what you must think of us,” she said 
in a low tone, “having that impossible girl here! An in¬ 
vited guest!” 

He looked down at her, smiling with a hint of ten¬ 
derness in his look, for he saw that she was very tired. 

“I think you are a brave girl,” he said earnestly. “And 
I think your experiment was a success. May I come back 
a few minutes, and help wash dishes? I’m taking your 
young brother Harry with me, and shall have to bring 
him back, you know. We’ll talk it all over then.” 

He touched his hat, and vanished into the starlit 
night. 

Cornelia flushed, wondering, half dismayed, ready to 
drop with fatigue, yet strangely elated. She stood a 
moment in the doorway, looking after the two cars as 
they whirled away down the street, and letting the cool 
evening breeze blow on her hot forehead, then turned 
back to the bright, pretty room, somehow soothed and 
comforted. A thought had come to her. She had prayed 
16 


f42 


RE-CREATIONS 


for help, and God had sent it; right into the midst of her 
consternation He had sent that young man to help! And 
how he had helped! What a tower of strength he had 
been all the awful evening! 

But then Louise fell upon her with joyful exclama¬ 
tions. 

“It was a success, Nellie, wasn’t it? A great success! 
Wasn’t he great? Wasn’t it wonderful that father should 
have found him and brought him in? Wasn’t it just like 
an answer, Nellie, don’t you think? He kept her away 
from Carey all the evening, and Carey had a lovely time 
with Miss Kendall. And Brand said he had a good time, 
too, and told me he wished you would ask him again. He 
talked to me a lot while you were talking to the others. 
He said he’d take us all out in his car sometime if you 
would go; and he said he thought you were a wonderful 
sister, and a beautiful girl! He did, Nellie, he said it 
just like that, ‘Your sister is a bee-yew-t\-i\A girl’! And 
he meant it! And it was true, Nellie; you did look just 
wonderful. Your cheeks were such a pretty pink, and 
you didn’t have your nose all white like that Clytie. Say, 
I guess she saw it wasn’t nice to be the way she is, don’t 
you think she did ? I don’t think she had such an awfully 
nice time either. I don’t think she liked it the way Carey 
acted. I guess maybe she’ll let him alone some now, and 
I hope she does. My, I hope she does! I didn’t think 
he liked her being here, either, did you, Nellie ? And say 
didn’t the water-ice look lovely? And the table was the 
prettiest thing! Miss Kendall said she never saw such 


RE-CREATIONS 


243 


a pretty table. She said you were an artist, Nellie. And 
Mr. Maxwell, he couldn’t say enough things about the 
house. Even that Brand said he wished he had a nice 
cozy home like this. He said his sister didn’t have time to 
get up birthday parties, or his mother, either; they had 
to have a whole townful when they had parties, and he 
just loved it tonight. He said twice he wished you’d ask 
him again. I guess he means to stick, Nellie; will you 
like that?” 

“He’s not so bad,” said Cornelia, patting the little girl’s 
cheek. “I think maybe we can find a way to help him a 
little if we try. And I think maybe v/e ought not to feel 
so hard toward that poor, foolish girl, either, dearie. Now, 
come, kitty dear, you ought to be in bed.” 

“ ’Deed, no, Nellie dear. I’m going to see the whole 
thing through,” she chanted, hopping around on the tips 
of her toes. “We’ve got to wash the dishes. Harry said 
that Mr. Maxwell was coming back to help, too. We 
better get some clean aprons ready.” 

“Where is father, Louie ? Did he go up to bed?” 

“Oh, no, he went with Brand and Carey and Miss 
Kendall. They asked him, and he seemed real pleased. I 
shouldn’t wonder if Brand will come back too, and help. 
He asked me if he might. I said I guessed you wouldn’t 
care. I thought if he didn’t maybe he’d carry Carey off 
for all night or something.” 

Cornelia stooped, and kissed the sweet, anxious 
little face. 

“It’s all right, dearie, and I guess everything’s all right. 


£44 


RE-CREATIONS 


Somehow we came out of an awful place tonight, and I 
guess God means to see us through.” 

“I know,” said the little girl wisely. “When Clytie 
danced, you mean. That was awful, wasn’t it? Father 
looked—just—sick for a minute, didn’t he? Poor daddy, 
he didn’t understand. And he doesn’t like dancing. And 
I thought for just a minute how awful mother would feel. 
She doesn’t like it either. And that girl—she was so— 
awful! But my! I’m glad it’s over, aren’t you, Nellie? 
And say! There they come! There’s enough water-ice 
for everybody to have some more. Shall we have it ? My 
isn’t this fun?” 

They all came in, and frolicked through the dishes. 
Brand and Maxwell entering into it with spirit. Brand 
didn’t do much helping; but he made a show at it, and 
he certainly enjoyed the angel cake and water-ice, which 
was most thoroughly “finished” that night. Even the 
father came out into the kitchen, and watched the fun, 
and talked with Maxwell, who was flourishing a dish- 
towel and polishing glasses as if he had always done it. 

Harry and Maxwell grew very chummy, and Maxwell 
declared that he was under deep obligation to the boy for 
his supper. 

“How about it, Mr. Copley? Will you let this boy 
take a trip with me sometime pretty soon? I’m to go 
after mother in a week or so now, and I’d like mighty 
well to have his company. I shall probably start next 
Friday, sometime in the afternoon, and expect to get back 
Monday sometime. That wouldn’t take him out of school 


RE-CREATIONS 


245 


many hours, and I think we’d have a first-rate time. 
Would you like it, son?” 

Harry’s eager face needed no words to express his 
joy. His eyes fairly sparkled. 

The young man took a business card from his pocket, 
and handed it to Mr. Copley. 

“Vm really an utter stranger to you, you know,” he 
said with a smile; “and I can understand how you wouldn’t 
want to trust your boy to a stranger. I shall consider it a 
favor if you will look me up; ask any of the men in my 
firm about me. I want you to be sure about me, because 
I intend to come again if you will let me. I’m not running 
any risk of losing such perfectly good new friends as 
you all are, and I want Harry for the trip.” 

Mr. Copley looked the young man over admiringly. 

“Don’t you think I can tell a man when I see one?” 
he asked amusedly. “It’s generally written on his face, 
and no one can mistake.” 

“Thank you,” said Maxwell. “That is a compliment!” 

After the dishes were done there were the ferns to be 
unboxed and admired, and it was after midnight when at 
last the two young men said, “Good night,” and drove 
away, each with the hearty assurance that he had had a 
wonderful time and wanted to come again soon. 

When Cornelia went up to her room and took off her 
apron, out of its pocket fell a letter which she had received 
that morning and had been too busy to read. She opened 
it now. It was a brief, rattling epistle from one of her 
classmates in college, begging her to put off everything 


246 


RE-CREATIONS 


else for a few days and come to a house-party with them 
all. It was to be down at Atlantic City, near enough to 
home not to make the trip expensive; and they all were 
crazy to see her again and tell her all about commencement. 
She smiled reminiscently as she laid it away in her desk- 
drawer, and found to her surprise that she had no great 
desire to go. She knew what the party would be, full of 
rollicking fun, and care-free every minute of it; but some¬ 
how her heart and soul were now in her home and the new 
life that was opening before her. She wanted to finish 
the house; to make the white kitchen as charming in its 
way as the other rooms were getting to be; to help Carey 
plan a front porch he had said he would build with stone 
pillars; to set out some plants in the yard, finish the bed¬ 
rooms, and make out a list of new furniture for the car¬ 
penter next door to buy. The minister had said he knew 
of some people who were refurnishing their house and 
wanted her professional advice. She wanted to stay and 
work. Mr. Maxwell was coming to take them all motor¬ 
ing some evening, too; and Brand had declared he would 
bring his sister around to call, and they would go out to 
ride. Life was opening up full and beautiful. College and 
its days seemed far away and almost childish. Tomorrow 
morning she and Grace Kendall were going to make cur¬ 
tains for one of the Sunday-school classrooms. Carey 
had promised to help put them up. Oh, life wasn’t half 
bad! Even Clytie Amabel Dodd did not loom so formi- 
dab’e as earlier in the evening. She knelt and thanked God. 


CHAPTER XXI 


W hen Maxwell finally turned his car cityward it was 
with the feeling of a naughty boy who had run away from 
duty and was suddenly confronted by retribution. 

He glanced at the clock in the car and noted that the 
hour was getting very late, and compunction seized upon 
him. Now that he had done the thing it suddenly seemed 
atrocious. He had ignored a lady in trouble and gone 
on a tangent. It wasn’t even the excuse of a previous 
engagement, or the plea of old friends. It was utterly 
unnecessary. He had followed an impulse and accepted 
an utter stranger’s invitation to dinner, and then had 
stayed all the evening, and gone back to wash dishes after¬ 
ward. As he thought it over he felt that either he was 
crazy or a coward. Was it actually true that he, a man 
full grown, with a will of his own, was afraid to trust 
himself for an hour in the company of the woman who 
had once been supreme in his life? What was he afraid 
of? Not that he would yield to her wiles after two years 
absence; not that he would break his promise to himself 
and marry her in spite of husbands and laws either moral 
or judicial. It must be that he was afraid to have his 
own calm disturbed. He had been through seas of agony 
and reached a haven of peace where he could endure and 
even enjoy life, and he was so selfish that he wished 
to remain within that haven even though it meant a breach 
of courtesy, and an outraging of all his finer instincts. 

247 


248 


RE-CREATIONS 


He forgot that his struggle earlier in the evening 
had been in an exactly opposite line, and that the finer 
feelings had urged him to remain away from the woman 
who had once been almost his undoing. However, now 
that it was almost too late to mend the matter he felt 
that he ought to have gone. Even if her plea of asking 
his advice had merely been a trumped-up excuse to bring 
him to her side, yet was it not the part of a gentleman to 
go? A true gentleman should never let a lady ask for 
help in vain. And he had promised always to be her 
friend. It might be that it had been an ill-advised prom¬ 
ise, but a promise was a promise, etc. 

By that time he had arrived at his apartment and was 
hastening through a rapid evening toilet. The evening 
and its simple experiences seemed like a pleasant dream 
that waking obliterates. It might return later, but now 
the present was upon him, and he knew Evadne when 
she was kept waiting. If she had not changed there was 
no pleasant interview in store for him. However, he need 
not tell her that he had been enjoying himself all the 
evening and had forgotten how fast time was flying. 

Arrived at the hotel he went at once to the desk and 
asked for the lady. The clerk asked his name and called 
a bell-boy. “Go page Miss Chantry,” he said. “She’s 
in the ballroom.” Then turning to Maxwell, he said: 
“She left word you were to wait for her in the reception 
room over there.” 

“No, don’t page her,” said Maxwell sharply, “I’ll go 
and find her myself/’ 


RE-CREATIONS 


249 


“Oh, all right! Just as you please! Those were her 
orders.” 

Maxwell turned toward the elevators, half inclined 
after all not to see her. She had not been in such distress 
but that she could amuse herself after all. But that was 
Evadne, of course. He must expect that. Besides, she 
was doubtless angry at his delay. 

Maxwell got off at the gallery floor expecting to find 
the lady seated in one of the little quiet nooks overlooking 
the gay throng, but he made the rounds without finding 
her, and paused at the last door to look down on the 
moving, throbbing, colorful life below. 

The orchestra was beating out a popular bit of ele¬ 
vated jazz and the floor below was like a kaleidoscope as 
the couples wove their many colored patterns in and out 
among each other. 

Maxwell watched the dancers idly for a moment. He 
was not a dancer himself and not particularly interested 
in it. As he looked he was suddenly struck with the con¬ 
trast between this scene and the quiet little home where 
he had spent the evening. How hard these people were 
trying to enjoy themselves, and how excited and restless 
and almost unhappy many of them looked. 

A group of ladies seated near the railing quite close 
to where he stood were discussing one of the couples on 
the floor. 

“She is disgusting,” said one, “I wonder who she 
is ? How dare she come to a respectable place and dance 
in that way?” 


250 


RE-CREATIONS 


His eyes followed their glances and he easily singled 
out the two who were under their criticism. The man, 
a tall, dark, bizarre looking fellow he knew by sight, with 
money enough and family irreproachable enough to get 
away with anything in these days. 

But the woman! Why did there seem to be something 
familiar about her? Sleek, black hair wound closely 
about a small, languid head, lizard-like body inadequately 
sheathed in gold brocade, sparkle of jewels from lazy 
graceful feet. 

A break in the throng as some one went off the floor, 
and the two swept around facing him. The woman looked 
up and met his eyes. It was Evadne! 

Something clicked and locked in his soul as if the 
machinery could not go on any longer without readjust¬ 
ment. He stood staring down at her, a growing wonder 
in his face, aware that she was looking at him and waving, 
aware that he was expected to smile. Instead he felt 
as if he were glaring. Was this the woman for whom 
he had spent two years of agony and struggle ? This little 
empty faced creature with a smile upon her painted selfish 
mask? As he stood looking at her he was struck with a 
fleeting fancy that she resembled Clytie, poor feather¬ 
brained Clytie trying to exploit her own little self in the 
best way she knew, to play the game of life to her own 
best advantage. What was the difference between them? 

Was it for a woman like this that he had wasted two 
of the best years out of his young manhood? He used 
to call her beautiful, but now her face seemed so vapid. 


RE-CREATIONS 


251 


Was it just the years that had come between or had she 
changed, grown coarser, less ethereal ? A vision of 
Cornelia Copley floated in his mind. Why hadn’t he known 
sooner that there was a girl like that some where in the 
world ? What a fool he had been! 

Evadne had signalled to him and led her partner off 
the floor. Now they were coming to him. He wished 
he might vanish somewhere. Why had he come? This 
girl had no real need of him. She was merely enjoy¬ 
ing herself. 

“What made you so late ?” she challenged gaily, “We’ve 
been waiting supper for an age. I met an old friend 
tonight. Bob, meet Artie Maxwell. Come on, I’ve had 
the food served in my suite, and I’ve ordered lobster 
Newburg and all the things you used to like.” 

“ I’ll answer for the drinks,” broke in the one called 
Bob, “I’ve sampled them already.” 

“Sh! Naughty! Naughty! Bob!” hushed Evadne 
with her finger on her lips. “Artie is a good little boy. 
He doesn’t break the law—” she laughed. “Come on, 
Artie, I’m nearly starved. I thought you never would 
get here. Ring for the elevator, Bob, please.” 

Maxwell’s whole being simply froze. 

He didn’t want to remain, and he didn’t like the other 
man, but he could not ask her point blank what she wanted 
of him in the presence of this stranger. He was gravely 
silent as the elevator carried them to the right floor and 
Evadne did the talking. But when the door opened into 
the apartment and showed a table set for three with 


252 RE-CREATIONS 

flowers and lights and preparations for a feast he made 
a stand. 

“I can’t possibly stay for supper,” he declared, “Ive 
dined only a little while ago, and I must leave for New 
York on business very early in the morning. I only drop¬ 
ped in to explain—” 

“Indeed, you are not going to leave in that way!” she 
flashed upon him angrily, “I told you in my note that 
I had something very important to tell you.” 

Maxwell looked at the other man politely: 

“If we could have just a word together now,” he said, 
turning back to the girl. “I really must get back to my 
apartment at once. I have important papers to prepare 
for tomorrow.” 

The other man turned away toward the table haugh¬ 
tily, with a scornful: “Why certainly,” and poured him¬ 
self a glass from the flask that stood there. 

Maxwell turned to the angry girl: 

“Now, what can I do for you? I shall be very glad 
to do anything in my power of course.” He spoke stiffly 
as to a stranger. The girl perceived that her power over 
him was waning. Yet she was too subtle to let him see it. 

“I am in deep trouble,” she sighed with a quiver of 
the lips, “but I can’t tell it in a moment. It is a long 
story.” Her eyelids fluttered down on her lovely painted 
cheeks. She knew the line that would touch him most. 

“What sort of trouble?” he asked almost gently. 
He never could bear to see a woman suffer. 


RE-CREATIONS 


253 


She clasped her little jewelled hands together fiercely 
and bent her head dejectedly. 

“I cannot tell you all now,” she answered desperately, 
“you would have to hear the whole before you could 
understand. Wait until we are alone.” 

“Is it financial trouble?” he urged after a pause with 
a gentle persistence in his voice. 

“Yes, that—and —other things!” Evadne forced a 
tear to the fringes of her almond lids. 

He studied her gravely: 

“I’ll tell you what I want you to do,” he said at last, 
“I will not be here tomorrow nor possibly for several days, 
but I would like you to talk with our old family lawyer. 
He was a friend of my father’s, and is very wise and 
kind. Anything you could tell to me you can tell to him. 
He knows you and will fully understand. I can call him 
tonight when I get back and explain, and he will be glad 
to come here and see you I am sure; or if you prefer you 
can go to his office.” 

But Evadne lifted her sleek, black head wrathfully, 
flicked off the tear, flung out her chin, and looked him 
down with her almond eyes as if from a great height: 

“Thank you!” she said crisply, “When I want a 
family lawyer I can get one! And you —can— go!” 

She pointed to the door with her jewelled hand imperi¬ 
ously and Maxwell arose with dignity, his eyes upon 
her as if he would force himself to see the worst, and went. 

“Bob!” said Evadne to the bibulous man at the table 
when the elevator door had clanged shut after her one- 


254 


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time lover, *Tm not sure but I shall come back to Phila¬ 
delphia after a few days and stay awhile. I wonder if 
you could keep track of that man for me and tell me just 
where he goes and what he does. I’ll make it worth your, 
while you know.” 

“Surely, old dear, I’ll be delighted. No trouble at 
all. I know a private detective who would be tickled to 
death for the job. What did you say the poor fish’s name 
is? Seemed a harmless sort of chump. Not quite your' 
kind is he? Come, Vaddie, let’s have another drink.” 

But Evadne’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully as she took 
the glass and drank slowly. She was not one to take 
lightly any loss. 

Out in the night the young man drew a deep breath 
of the clean air thankfully. It seemed as though he had 
escaped from something unwholesome and tainted. He 
was glad that he had the sense to know it, and he thought 
back again with relief to the happy evening in the simple, 
natural home. 


CHAPTER XXII 


Carey had been working quite steadily at the garage 
and giving money to his father and Cornelia every week. 
It really made things much easier in the home. Word had 
come that the mother was steadily progressing toward 
health, and everybody was much happier. It seemed that 
Carey was happier, too. Pie was not away so much at 
night, which relieved his sister and his father tremendously. 

Nothing had been said about Clytie Dodd. Carey 
had thanked his sister for the party and for taking so 
much trouble to make a pleasant evening, but he utterly 
ignored the presence of the girl who had been the cause 
of the whole affair. It was as if she had not been there. 
Mr. Copley had asked as he sat down to dinner the next 
evening after the birthday: “Where did you pick up that 
queer Dodd girl you had here?” and Cornelia had an¬ 
swered quite casually, as if it didn’t matter at all, “Oh, 
she was just a girl I thought perhaps we ought to know,” 
and slipped back into the kitchen to get the potatoes just 
as Carey entered the dining-room. He must have heard 
the conversation, and heard his father’s reply: “Well, 
I guess she’s not quite our sort, is she ? I guess we can 
get along without her, can’t we?”—he made no com¬ 
ment, and began to talk at once eagerly about die new 
stone porch he was going to build. It appeared that he 
had discovered a lot of stone that was being dug from 
the street where thev were putting down new paving, and 


256 


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it was to be had for little more than the carting away. Pat 
would let him have his truck at night, and he was going 
to bring the first load that very evening. Brand was com¬ 
ing around to help. Brand wanted to have a hand in 
the building. 

Brand appeared soon after, coming breezily out to the 
dining-room without an invitation and sitting down for 
a piece of lemon pie as if he were a privileged friend of 
long standing. There was nothing backward about Brand. 
Yet somehow they all liked him, and Cornelia could see that 
Carey was pleased that they did. She felt a glow of thank¬ 
fulness in her heart that it was possible to like one of 
Carey’s friends when the other one was so unspeak¬ 
ably impossible. 

Brand took off his coat, and put on an old sweater of 
Carey’s; and they went off together after the truck. In a 
little while they were back with the first load of cobble¬ 
stones, and worked till long after dark, load after load, 
piling them neatly between the sidewalk and the curb, till 
they had a goodly lot. Brand seemed as interested in that 
porch as if it were his own. After they took the truck 
back Brand came in again, and wanted to sing. They sang 
for nearly an hour; and, when he left, Cornelia felt as 
if they had fully taken over Brand as a part of their little 
circle. She couldn’t help wondering what his society 
mother and elegant sister would say if they knew where 
he had spent the last two evenings. Then she reflected 
that there were much worse places where he might spend 
them, and probably often did; and she began to take Brand 


RE-CREATIONS 


£57 


into her thoughts and plans for the future with almost 
the same anxious care as she gave to Carey. Brand was 
a nice boy, and needed helping. He was too yoimg to 
spend his time running around with girls like Clytie Dodd 
and taking joy rides with a gay crowd. She would make 
their little home a haven where Carey and his friends would 
at least be safe and happy. She could not give them any¬ 
thing elaborate in the way of entertainment; but there 
should always be a welcome, plenty of music, and some¬ 
thing to eat. 

Cornelia could see her father visibly brighten day by 
day as the week went by, and Carey seemed to stick to 
his task and spend his evenings at home. Brand had 
bought a pair of overalls and made blisters on his hands 
digging for the foundation of the stone porch; and every 
afternoon Carey came home from the garage at five o’clock 
and worked away with a will. 

At this rate it did not take long for the wall to rise. 
It was level with the front door-step now, and Carey had 
put a plank across and a few stones for steps to go up 
and down. 

It was late on Thursday afternoon, and Carey was 
hard at work trying to finish the front wall before dark. 
Brand’s racing-car was standing by the curb with the en¬ 
gine throbbing, and Brand himself was standing with 
one foot on the wall talking to Carey. 

Cornelia had just come out with a plate of hot ginger¬ 
bread for them, and was standing a moment watching them 
enjoy it when another car suddenly came down the hill 
17 


RE-CREATIONS 


ftm 

and stopped in the road just in front of Brand’s car. A 
wriggling child in the front seat peered out curiously 
from beside the driver, and Cornelia had a glimpse of a 
fretful elderly woman’s face in the back seat. Then the 
door on the driver’s side of the car was opened and some 
one got out and came around. She hadn’t thought of 
its being Maxwell until he was in full view, and a soft 
flush came into her cheeks with the welcome light in 
her eyes. 

“Come in and have a piece of hot gingerbread!” she 
called, holding out the plate. 

He came springing up the plank, and stood beside her. 

“Oh, thank you! Isn’t this wonderful?” he said, tak¬ 
ing a piece eagerly. “But I’m afraid I must eat and run. 
I’m taking my chief’s aunt and her grandchild down to 
the train, and mustn’t delay. I just stopped to say that 
I’m leaving for the mountains tomorrow afternoon about 
three o’clock, and will stop here for Harry. Do you 
think that will be too early for him?” 

“Oh, no, indeed. He can come home from school at 
noon and be all ready for you. It is wonderful of you 
to take him. He has talked of nothing else since you 
were here, and father and I appreciate your kindness, 
I’m sure,” 

“No kindness about it. It will be great to have a kid 
along. I hate to go anywhere alone. Say, this gingerbread 
is luscious! No, really I mustn’t take another bite. I 
must go this minute. I’ve left my engine going, and the 
lady is inclined to be easily annoyed. I—” 


RE-CREATIONS 


259 


He happened to look up at that moment and saw to 
his horror that his car had begun to move slowly on down 
the hill. The child on the front seat had been doing things 
to the brakes and clutch. She had no idea what she was 
doing, but she always did things to everything in sight. 
If it was an electric bulb, she unscrewed it; if it was 
openable, she opened it; if it was possible to throw any¬ 
thing out of gear, she always could be depended upon to 
throw it. She was that kind of a child. She once threw 
a pair of heavy sliding doors off the track and almost 
down upon her, and was saved from a timely death only 
by the presence of some elderly rescuer. Had Maxwell 
known the child, he never would have left her alone in 
that front seat. She had wriggled herself into the driver’s 
seat, and her fat hands were manipulating the wheel. As 
the car began to move she gave a shout of horrid glee. A 
scream from the woman on the back seat, and Maxwell 
turned sick with the thought of the possibilities, and sprang 
down the wall toward the street. 

But, quick as he was, Brand and Carey were ahead 
of him. At the very first sound, even before the car 
had been really in motion, Carey looked up over the wall 
he was building, gave a low whistle, and cried: “Hey 
there! Brand! Your car! Get a hustle!” 

Brand turned, and needed not an explanation. He 
dashed across the intervening space to his own car, sprang 
) to the driver’s seat, and was off. Carey, though handi¬ 
capped by the wall he had to leap over, was scarcely a 




RE-CREATIONS 


hair’s breadth behind, and alighted on the running-board 
after the car had started. 

“We’ve got to catch her before she reaches the cor¬ 
ner,” he shouted above the noise of the racing engine. 
‘‘There’s a trolley coming around the curve at the foot 
of the hill, and you can’t tell what that kid’ll do. It’s a 
cinch she never ran a car before; look at her wabble. She’s 
getting scared now. Look! The fool in the back seat 
has dragged her away from the wheel! Hey there! Give 
her plenty of room! Now curve her around, and give me 
space to jump her!” 

Maxwell was running frantically and vainly down the 
street after his car, which was now going at a wild pace. 
From either direction on the cross street at the foot of the 
hill he could see cars speeding along. Who would know 
that the oncoming car was managed by a child who had 
never run a car in her life, a child who knew nothing what¬ 
ever about cars, was too young to know, had never even 
been accustomed to ride in one, but lived in a little country 
village where cars were scarce articles ? All this he knew 
because the grandmother had talked much to the young¬ 
ster on the way down, and the child had said she had never 
been in a car but once before, but she wished she had one; 
she knew she could run it. 

Horror froze in his veins as he remembered all these 
little details. He had made running a specialty when he 
was in college athletics, but now, although his way was 
downhill, his feet were like lead and his knees weak as 
water. He saw himself a murderer. Every possible de- 


RE-CREATIONS 


£61 


tail of disaster rose and menaced his way as he sped on¬ 
ward, determined to do all in his power for rescue. The 
blood was pounding through his head so that he could 
scarcely see or hear. His breath came painfully, and he 
wondered blindly how long this would last. Then sud¬ 
denly he saw the long, clean body of the racing-car slide 
down the hill like a glance of light, glide close to the run¬ 
away car, then curve away and cross the street just in 
front of the oncoming trolley. He looked to see his own 
car smash into the trolley-car; but instead it swept 
around in a steady, clean curve that just cleared the trol¬ 
ley-car and veered away to the right. It crossed the car 
track behind the trolley-car, and circled around and back 
up the hill again, a steady hand at the wheel. An instant 
more, and the car stopped before him where he stood in 
the middle of the road, his face white, his eyes staring, 
unable to believe that the catastrophe had really been 
averted. He looked up and there sat Carey in the driver’s 
seat as coolly as if he had been taking a pleasure trip. 

“Shall I turn her around?” asked Carey nonchalantly, 
“or do you want to go back to the house ?” 

“How did you do it?” asked Arthur Maxwell, grasp¬ 
ing Carey’s grimy hand eagerly. “I didn’t see you 
catch her.” 

“Oh, just jumped her from Brand’s running-board. 
Dead easy. Guess she gave you a little start though. That 
kid ought to be spanked. I guess the lady’s pretty 
badly scared.” 

The lady and the “kid” were bathed in tears and wrap- 


wz 


RE-CREATIONS 


ped in each other’s arms in the back seat. The child was 
experiencing a late repentance, and the grandmother was 
alternately scolding and petting and in a fair way to make 
the little criminal feel she had done a smart thing. 
Maxwell gave them a withering glance, and turned to 
Carey, who had swung out over the door and was stand¬ 
ing in the road, looking at the car like a lion tamer who 
has just subdued a wild creature. 

“I shall never forget this, Copley,” said Maxwell, 
grasping his hand once more in the kind of a grip a real 
man gives to another. ‘Til talk about it later when I’ve 
taken these people to the train. Meantime accept my 
thanks for yourself and your friend. You’re both princes, 
and I’ll see that everybody knows it.” 

“Forget it!” chanted Carey, and swung himself like 
a thistledown to the running-board of Brand’s car as 
he swept slowly, scrutinizingly up. 

“Got her all right, didn’t you, old man?” said Brand 
admiringly. “Any scratches? You had a mighty 
dose shave!” 

“Yep! She’s all right. Well, so-long Maxwell; we 
gotta beat it back to work,” and with a great whizzing 
and banging of joyful celebration the racer shot its way 
back uphill, and the two jumped out quite casually as if 
they had been off to get a soda and come back 
to work again. 

Cornelia, white, and trembling from the horror of the 
thing, tried to praise, to question, to exclaim; but, failing 
to make an impression on the two indifferent workers, 


RE-CREATIONS 


263 


went upstairs, fell on her knees, and cried. Somewhere 
in the midst of her tears her crying turned into a prayer 
of thanksgiving, and she came down with an uplifted look 
on her face. Now and then as she went about her duties 
she stole to the front window, and looked out on the two 
sturdy workers. She could have hugged them both she 
was so proud of them—they were so cool, so capable, 
and so indifferent! Just regular boys! 

Maxwell came back that evening. She had somehow 
known he would. He was filled with gratitude to the two 
who had so gallantly saved him from a catastrophe which 
would have shadowed his whole life. He still shuddered 
over the thought of what might have happened. 

“I will never again leave a child alone in an automo¬ 
bile,” he declared. “That girl was a little terror. I never 
saw one so spoiled and disagreeable in my life. She was 
determined to be allowed to run the car from the minute 
she got in, and she annoyed me constantly by playing with 
the electric buttons and getting her hands constantly on 
the wheel. I never dreamed she would have the strength 
to start the car, although she is large and strong for her 
age. But she has all kinds of nerve and impudence, and 
I might have known better than to stop here at all when 
I had such a passenger. Her grandmother is a nervous 
wreck; but she doesn’t blame me, fortunately, although I 
blame myself decidedly. It is my business to know men, 
and I should have known that child well enough to realize 
it was a risk to leave her.” 

“Kid ought to be spanked!” declared Carey gruffly. 


264 


RE-CREATIONS 


“Know what she did? When she saw she was going to 
run into that car, she lost every bit of nerve, and began 
climbing over the back of the seat. Some kid that! Just 
bad all through. Any nervy kid I know would have stuck 
it out and tried to steer her somehow, but that kid had a 
yellow streak/’ 

“You’re right there,” declared Maxwell with watch¬ 
ful eyes upon the young man. “But you had your nerve 
with you all right, I noticed. When you swung off that 
running-board, it was an even chance you took. If you 
had missed your calculation by so much as a hair’s 
breadth, you would have been smashed up pretty badly, 
crushed between the cars, probably.” 

Carey gave his shoulders a slight shrug. 

“It’s all in a lifetime,” he said lightly. “But, say, 
that’s a peach of a car you’ve got. Had it long?” and 
they launched into a lengthy discussion of cars in general 
and Maxwell’s in particular. Cornelia noticed that all 
the time Maxwell was watching her brother keenly, in¬ 
tently. As he got up to leave, he asked casually: 

“Are you still working with the garage people?” 

Carey colored, and lifted his chin a trifle haughtily. 

“Yes. I— yes!” he answered defiantly. 

“Stick to it till something better comes along,” advised 
Maxwell. “It isn’t a bad line, and you get a lot of good 
dope about machines* that won’t do you any harm in the 
future. You’re a good man, and there’s a good job waiting 
for you somewhere”; and with that he said, “Good night.” 

Mr. Copley came in presently with a late edition of 


RE-CREATIONS 


265 


the evening paper. He had been called to the home of 
his manager, who was ill, on a business consultation. He 
looked tired but exalted. He spread the paper out on the 
table under the lamp, and called the children. 

“See!” he said. “Do you know who that is?” 

They all gathered around, and behold there was Carey 
looking at them from the pages of the Evening Bulletin. 
Carey! Their brother! They stared and stared again. 

The picture had him in football garb, with one eye 
squinting at the sun, and a broad grin on his lips. It was 
Carey two years ago, on the high school football team,; 
but it looked like him still. Beneath from a border looked 
forth the bold, handsome features of Brand Barlock, and 
to one side another border held the round, fat, impertinent 
face of the child who had started the car that afternoon. 
The article below was headed in large letters: 

“Football Hero Saves Two Lives. 

Carey Copley Jumps From Moving Car And Saves 

Child and Grandmother!” I 

“Now, isn’t that the limit? How did that thing get 
in there?” demanded the young hero angrily. “And say! 
How’d they get my picture? Some little fool reporter 
went around to school, I suppose. Wouldn’t that make 
you mad? How’d they find that out I’d like to know? 
Brand never told; that’s one thing sure. Brand knows 
how to keep his mouth shut. You don’t suppose that guy 
Maxwell would give it to them, do you?” 

“He said he was going to see that everybody knevg 


£66 


RE-CREATIONS 


about it,” chuckled Louise happily. “I think it oughtta 
be known, don't you, Daddy? When a boy—that is a 
man —does a big thing like saving two lives, I think every¬ 
body oughtta know how brave he is.” 

“Nonsense!” said Carey. “You don’t know what 
you’re talking about, kid. That wasn’t anything to do.” 
But his tone showed that he was pleased at the general 
attitude of his family. Nevertheless, he slammed around 
noisily in the dining-room, pretending not to hear when 
his father read aloud the account of the accident in the 
paper, and went whistling upstairs immediately after. At 
the top he called down: 

“Say, I’m mighty glad they were fair to Brand in that 
ad. Brand’s a great fellow. I couldn’t have done a thing 
without him and his car. He knew just what to do with¬ 
out being told, and he can drive, I’ll say. Brand deserves 
all they can say of him. He’s a good fellow.” 

Altogether, the household slept joyously that night, 
and Harry dreamed of going to the mountains in an air¬ 
ship, and flying back tied to the tail of a kite. 

When Maxwell came to get Harry the next afternoon, 
he asked Cornelia one question that made her wonder 
a little. It seemed almost irrelevant. 

“Did your brother ever have anything to do with 
handling men?” he said looking thoughtfully at the neat 
masonry that was growing steadily longer and wider 
and higher. 

“Why—I—hardly know,” she replied, laughing. “I’ve 
been away so much from home.” 


RE-CREATIONS 


m 

“Captain of the basketball team in high school/' 
announced Harry shrewdly, “and captain of a local base¬ 
ball team they had out the other side of the city last sum¬ 
mer. Some team it was, too; licked everything in sight 
and then some. Carey had ’em all right where he wanted 
’em; and when a team treated ’em mean once, Kay just 
called the fellows off, and they wouldn’t play one of ’em 
till he got a square deal with the ump!” 

Harry’s eyes sparkled. He made an earnest young 
advocate. 

“Fine! I must hear more about that. I foresee I’m 
going to have a thrilling trip. There’ll be lots to talk 
about. Well, Miss Copley, we’ll bid you good-bye and get 
on our way. I want to get on well this afternoon in case 
we have bad weather tomorrow. But it looks clear now. 
We’ll travel late tonight. There ought to be a wonderful 
moon. I wish you were going along.” He gave her a 
wistful glance, and she flushed with pleasure. 

“Thank you,” she said appreciatively. “If I were 
only a little boy with nothing to do!” 

“Sister 1” protested Harry. “I’ve lots to do. I guess 
I work every day after school!” 

“You’re not a little boy, Harry; you’re almost a man,” 
answered his sister lovingly. “I wasn’t meaning you at 
all; I said, if I were a little boy with nothing to do, then 
I could go along. I meant you could take care of me, 
see ?” She gave a dear little smile at him, and he grinned. 

“Aw! Quit yer kiddin’. So-long, Cornie! Be back 
Monday. Take ker o’ yerself!” 


268 


RE-CREATIONS 


Maxwell's eyes met hers; they laughed together at the 
boyishness of it, and Maxwell said good-bye, and departed. 
Cornelia, as she went into the house, wondered why the 
brief conversation had seemed to lighten the monotony of 
the day so much, and then fell to wondering why Maxwell 
had asked that question about Carey. 

Five minutes later the door-bell rang; and, when she 
opened the door, there stood Clytie Dodd, a brilliant red 
feather surrounding a speck of a hat, and her face painted 
and powdered more wickedly than ever. She was wearing 
a yellow organdie dress with scallops on the bottom and 
adornments of colored spheres of cloth attached with black 
stitches at intervals over the frock. She carried a green 
parasol airily, and there was a “man” with an incipient 
and tenderly nursed mustache waiting for her at the gate. 
She greeted Cornelia profusely, and talked very loudly 
and very fast. 

“Is Kay here ? I’m just dying to see him and kid him 
about having his picture in the paper. He always said 
he’d never get his there. But isn’t it great, though? Some 
hero, I’ll tell the world! Who was the kid? Anybody 
belonging to the family? The paper didn’t state. Oh, 
darn! I’m sorry Kay isn’t here. I wanted him to meet 
my friend,” nodding toward the man at the gate. “We’ve 
got a date on for tonight, and we want him and his friend 
Mr. Barlock. Some girl friends of mine are coming, and 
we’re going to have a dance and a big feed. It’s just the 
kind of thing Kay likes. When’ll he be back ? Where is 
he? At the garage? We stopped there, but Pat said he’d 


RE-CREATIONS 


269 


went off with a car for some high muckymuck. I thought 
p’raps he’d stopped off here to take you a ride er some¬ 
thing. Well, I s’pose I’ll have to leave a message. Say, 
Ed, what time we going to start ? Eight ? Oh, rats! we 
oughtta start at half past seven. It’s a good piece out to 
that Horseheads Inn I was tellin’ you ’bout. We’ll start 
at half past seven. Say, you tell your brother to call me 
up soon’s he gets here. He often phones from the drug¬ 
store. Tell him I’ll give the details. But in case he don’t 
get me tell him we’ll stop by here for him at half past 
seven. Tell him not to keep us waiting. I gotta go on 
now ’cause we gotta tell two other people, a girl and a 
man. It’s awful annoying not having telephones every¬ 
where. I don’t know what we’d ever do without ours. 
S’-long! Don’t forget to tell Kay!” and she flitted down 
the steps and out the gate to her "man.” 


CHAPTER XXIII 


That awful girl! 

Cornelia shut the door, and dropped weakly into a 
chair. Her punishment was come upon her. She might 
have known she ought not to meddle with a girl like that, 
inviting her to the house and making her feel free there, 
setting the seal of family friendship on an intimacy that 
never ought to have been between her and the son of 
the house. 

And now what should she do? Should she conceal 
the message and try to get Carey to go somewhere else 
with her ? Or should she tell him the truth, and let him 
choose his own way? She knew beforehand that any 
kind of remonstrance from her would be vain. Carey was 
at the age when he liked to feel that he owned himself 
and took no advice from anybody unless he asked for 
it. She was enough of a stranger to him yet to realize 
that she must go slowly and carefully. It is a pity 
that we cannot more of us keep the polite relation of 
comparative strangers with our own family; it might 
tend to better things. It is strange that we do not realize 
this. The fact is, the best-meaning of us often antagonize 
the ones we love, and send them swiftly toward the very 
thing we are trying to keep them from doing. The wis¬ 
dom of serpents and the harmlessness of doves are of tea 
forgotten in our scheme of living, and loving consideration 


RE-CREATIONS 271 

of one another is a thing far too rare in even Christian 
homes today. 

Cornelia’s honest nature always inclined to telling the 
truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. She 
would have liked to go to her brother and give the mes¬ 
sage straight, knowing that he would decline it; but the 
fact was, she was not at all sure of him. Clytie’s manner 
implied that this sort of thing had been habitual amuse¬ 
ment with him. And Cornelia was not at all sure* that 
Clytie’s behavior on the night of the party had made any 
deep impression against her. Carey was young, and liked 
fun. These young people were ready to show him a good 
time, and what boy of his age could resist that? If she 
only knew of some way of getting up a counter-attraction! 
But what would a mild little fudge party or a walk to 
the park be beside the hilarity offered by Clytie’s program. 

Moreover, even if she succeeded in getting Carey away 
from the house before the wild crowd arrived, Clytie 
would be sure to tell him afterwards, and he would 
blame the sister for not giving the message. She was 
sure he would do that even if he did not intend to go. 
And there was Brand! He was invited, too. Of course 
Carey would go if Brand did. She wildly reviewed the 
idea of taking Brand into her confidence, and rejected it 
as not only useless, but a thing that would be regarded 
by Carey as a disloyalty to himself. Her perplexity deep¬ 
ened. Then she suddenly remembered her new source of 
* help, and, slipping to her knees beside the big chair in 
which she had been sitting, she prayed about it. 


RE-CREATIONS 


An outsider would think it a strange coincidence, per¬ 
haps. It did not seem so to the weary, perplexed sister 
that even while she knelt and poured out her worries to 
her heavenly Father the answer to her prayer should be on 
the very door-step. She rose as the bell pealed through the 
house once more, and, opening the door, found Grace 
Kendall standing there. She seemed like an angel from 
heaven, and Cornelia almost wondered whether she 
should’t tell her troubles to this new friend. 

“I’ve come to ask a favor,” Grace said eagerly. “And 
you’re to promise first that you will tell me truly if there 
is any reason why it isn’t convenient to grant it. Now 
do you promise?” 

Cornelia laughingly promised, but before the request 
was made she heard Carey’s step at the side door, and a 
shadow of anxiety came into her eyes. Carey, not know¬ 
ing of their visitor, came straight into the living room 
in search of his sister. 

“I couldn’t get any more cement tonight. Isn’t that 
a shame?” he said before he saw their guest, and then 
came forward, half abashed to greet her, apologizing for 
his rough working garb. 

“Please don’t apologize,” said Grace eagerly. “You 
look fine. You couldn’t work in evening clothes, could 
you? And wait till you hear what I’ve come to beg you 
to do. Are you awfully busy this evening, both of you?” 

“Not a thing in the world to do,” said Carey eagerly. 
“I’m at your service. What can I do for you? Anything 
but sing. I really can’t sing well enough to go into a choir.” 


'RE-CREATIONS 


273 


"Well, I don’t want you to sing tonight,” said Grace, 
laughing. "Guess again. Now you’re sure you haven’t 
any engagement ?” 

"No, indeed, honor bright,” he declared smiling. 

“Well, then I’m going to beg you to do a big favor. 
You see father is asked to speak over at Glen Avon tonight 
and he has just discovered that they only have two trains 
a day, and the evening train will get him there too late 
for the meeting; so he had to hurry around and try to 
get some one to take him in a car. We have found the 
car. It belongs to Mr. Williams, and he is just eager to 
lend it; but he can’t drive it himself, because he has to go 
to New York at five o’clock. He’s rather particular about 
who drives it, and he said, if we could get a good, reliable 
driver, we were welcome to it. Father knew that you 
were used to cars; he’s watched you driving Mr. Barlock’s 
car sometimes, and he wondered if you would be willing 
to go and drive us. The car is a great big, roomy one, and 
we can take as many along as want to go; and I thought 
perhaps you and the children would like to go too.” She 
turned to Cornelia and then back to Carey. "You’re quite 
sure there isn’t any reason at all why it isn’t convenient 
for you?” 

"Perfectly,” said Carey with shining eyes; "I’d rather 
drive than eat any day in the week. And it will be a dandy 
trip. The roads over there are like velvet. There’s going 
to be a moon tonight, too! Gee! I’m glad you asked me. 
When do we start?” 

"Why, father has to be there by eight. How long do 
18 


274 


RE-CREATIONS 


you think it will take ? We must not run any risk of being 
late. It is some kind of a convention and father has charge 
of the hour from eight to nine. We won’t have to stay 
late, you know, and we can ride a while afterward if 
we like.” 

“Great!” said Carey. “I’ll bring you home by the way 
of the river. It’ll be peachy that way tonight. Say! This 
is wonderful! I think we ought to start by half past six or 
quarter to seven. Cornie can you get through dinner by 
six thirty? That would be safer.” 

“Oh, surely,” said Cornelia eagerly. “We’ll have the 
dinner on the table the minute father gets in, five minutes 
to six; and we’ll just stack the dishes and run. Won’t it 
be delightful?” 

Then suddenly the thought of Clytie Dodd and her 
party came back with a twinge of horror. Ought she to 
tell Carey at once? 

Grace Kendall was hurrying away with many thanks 
and happy exclamations of how glad she was she had made 
up her mind to come. She could not tell it before Grace, 
anyway, although perhaps Carey would have thought 
she ought. 

“What’s the matter, Nell?” asked her brother as he 
came in and shut the door. “Don’t you want to go? I 
should think it would be a good rest for you.” 

“Oh, yes, indeed! I want to go, of course; but I just 
remembered. Perhaps I should have told you before you 
promised. Clytie Dodd was here—” 

“What?” he looked angry and disgusted. 


RE-CREATIONS 


275 


“She wanted you to go to some ride and dance tonight 
and get Brand to go too. She wants you to call her up 
at once.” 

“Aw! Forget it! She’s always got something on 
the brain. Call her up. I shan’t call her up. She’s a little 
fool, anyway.” 

He looked half ashamed as he said it. He was per¬ 
fectly aware that his sister must have seen him all dressed 
up taking her to a moving-picture show several weeks ago. 

“But—they’re going to stop here for you at half past 
seven.” 

“Well, let ’em stop! We’ll be gone, won’t we? She’ll 
have her trouble for her pains, won’t she?” He really 
was speaking in a very rude tone to his sister; but she 
could see that he was annoyed and mortified to have to 
talk with her at all on this subject, and the things he said 
filled her with a triumphant elation. 

“But, Carey, oughtn’t you to call her up and tell her 
you have another engagement ? Isn’t that the right thing, 
the manly thing, to do ?” 

“Oh, bother! You don’t understand! Let me man¬ 
age this, please. I guess I know my own business. I 
tell you she’s a—fool!” 

Carey slammed upstairs to his room, and she could 
hear him presently in the bathroom stropping his razor, 
and whistling a merry tune. He had forgotten all about 
Clytie. Cornelia’s hand trembled as she slipped the hot 
apple pie out of the oven, and dusted it with powdered 


276 


RE-CREATIONS 


sugar. Then she suddenly straightened up, and said out 
loud, “He answered!” 

For a moment the little white kitchen seemed a holy 
place, as if a presence unseen were there; and her whole 
being was thrilled with the wonder of it. God, the great 
God, had listened to her troubled cry and sent His angel 
in the form of the minister’s daughter, who had averted 
the danger. Other people might doubt and sneer at sup¬ 
posed answers to prayer if they knew the circumstances, 
perhaps call it a coincidence, or a “chance,” or a “happen¬ 
ing”; but she knew! There was something more than 
just the fact that the trouble had been averted. There 
was that strange spiritual consciousness of God answer¬ 
ing her, God coming near and communicating with her, 
as if their eyes had met across the universe, and He had 
made her certain of His existence, certain of His interest 
in her and care for her and her affairs. 

It was a little thing, an intangible thing; but it glorified 
her whole life, the day, the moment, and her work. It 
was real, and something she could never forget. She went 
swiftly about the last details of the evening meal, had 
everything on the table absolutely on time, even found a 
moment to run up to her room, smooth her hair, and put 
on a fresh blouse. Yet through it all, and on through the 
beautiful evening, it kept ringing back sweetly in her heart. 
She had a refuge when things grew too hard for her, a 
God who cared, and would help in time of need. She 
had not thought that faith was given like that, but it had 
come and made a different thing entirely of living. 


RE-CREATIONS 


277 


They had a wonderful drive, Grace sitting in the front 
seat with Carey, and carrying on a merry conversation, 
his father and the minister in the back seat, with Louise 
and Cornelia in the two little middle seats. For the 
minister had insisted on the whole family going. So 
for the first time since Cornelia’s return from college the 
little house was shut up and dark through the whole even¬ 
ing, and now and again Cornelia’s thoughts would turn 
back and wonder what Clyde thought when she arrived 
with her gang of pleasure-seekers. 

But the evening was so wonderful, the moonlight so 
perfect, the company so congenial, that Cornelia found it 
hard to harbor unpleasant thoughts, and for one evening 
was care-free and happy. Now and then she thought of 
her little brother riding afar with young Maxwell, and 
wondered what they were talking about, and whether 
they would all know him any better when he got back with 
Harry. It was always so revealing to have a member of 
one’s family get really close to every-day living with a 
person. Then her thoughts would come back to the drift¬ 
ing talk from Grace and Carey in front, and she thought 
how handsome her brother looked, and how at ease driv¬ 
ing the car and talking to this sweet, cultured girl. She 
remembered his accents when he called Clytie Dodd a fool 
so vehemently, and compared them with his face as he 
walked on Chestnut Street, chewing gum, and looking 
down attentively to his over-dressed, ill-behaved compan¬ 
ion. Which was the real Carey? And do we all have 


278 


RE-CREATIONS 


two people shut up inside ourselves ? Or is one the real 
self and the other a mask? 

The service which they attended for an hour was in¬ 
tensely interesting, and quite new to Cornelia. She had 
never seen anything like it before. It was a “conference.” 
Nobody said for what, and she did not happen to get hold 
of a program until they were leaving. Mr. Kendall at 
the desk seemed like a father among his children, or a 
close friend of them all; and he led their thoughts to the 
heavenly Father in a most wonderful way, speaking of 
Him as if He were present always with each one, ready 
to help in any need, ready to conquer for them; and the 
thought he left with them at the close of his ten-minute 
talk was drawn from the verse, “My grace is sufficient for 
thee, for My strength is made perfect in weakness.” 

Cornelia listened in wonder, and instantly to her mind 
sprang once more her own experience of the afternoon 
and a conviction that she was being watched and guarded 
and led and loved by an unseen Power. This sense of 
God had never come to her before. Religion had been a 
dreamy, mysterious necessity, the wholly respectable and 
conventional thing to believe in, of course, and a kind of 
comfortable assurance for the darkness of the beyond. 
She had never had any particular tendency to the modern 
doubts. Pier mother’s faith and her father’s living had 
been too real for that; and always, when a teacher had 
voiced some sceptical flippancy, she had turned away with 
an inner conviction that the teacher did not know, because 
there was her mother; and a feeling that she preferred to 


RE-CREATIONS 279 

stick to the faith of her fathers. But as far as concerned 
any particular reason for doing so, or any particular con¬ 
viction on her own part, she was absolutely without them. 

But now suddenly she saw and felt something that 
had never come to her realization before. She felt as 
firmly assured of all the vital truths she had been taught 
as if some mystic curtain had suddenly been rolled back 
and revealed to her things hidden from mortal eye. She 
remembered somewhere in the Bible there was a verse, 
one of her mother’s favorites, “He that believeth hath the 
witness in himself.” Was this possibly what it meant? 
Was “the witness” coming to her because she had put 
her childhood belief to the test? 

She came out of the church with a firm resolve to 
begin to study her Bible and find out more about this 
wonderful spirit world that was all about her, and by 
which perhaps she was guided through her life much 
more than she had ever dreamed. Her feeling that God 
was somewhere close and taking personal notice of her 
and her interests was so strong that she could not ignore 
it, and yet she regarded it almost shyly, like a bird that 
has quietly alighted on one’s hand and might be frightened 
away. She did not dare to touch it and lay hold on its 
wonder firmly lest it should prove to be a figment of her 
imagination; but it gave her a deep, new joy for which 
she found no name. Could it be that she had found Christ ? 
She had heard her mother speak of “finding Christ,” and 
had never had much idea of what it could be. Now a deep 
conviction grew in her that she was experiencing it herself. 




280 


RE-CREATIONS 


The ride home was one of wonderous beauty, and 
there was a serene happiness in each heart that made it 
seem a most unusual occasion, one to look back upon with 
a thrill of pleasure for many a day. Even Louise seemed 
to feel it. She nestled close to her sister, and watched with 
wide, happy eyes the fleeting starry darkness, and drew 
long breaths of spring and ferny sweetness as they passed 
through some wooded road, and every little while would 
whisper: “Aren’t we having just a wonderful time, 
Nellie, dear? I wonder if it’s as pretty where Harry is 
now. I wonder if they’ve stopped for the night yet.” 

The minister and Mr. Copley were on the two middle 
seats now, having a deep discussion about whether the 
world was growing better or worse, and Cornelia was 
on the back seat with her little sister. The evening seemed 
like an oasis in the great desert of hard work and worry 
through which she had been passing for the last few weeks. 
Just to see Carey there in the front seat talking and smil¬ 
ing to Grace was enough to rest her heart. If she could 
have heard the earnest little talk about real Christian liv¬ 
ing they were having, she would have been filled with 
wonder and awe. Carey talking religion with a young 
girl! How unbelievable it would have seemed to her! 
But the purr of the engine sheltered the quiet sentences; 
and Grace and Carey talked on deep into the heart of 
life and the simplicity of the gospel, and Carey expressed 
shy thoughts that he never would have dreamed before 
of letting even the angels of heaven guess. His living 
hadn’t always been in accordance with such thoughts or 


RE-CREATIONS 


281 


beliefs; but they were there all the time, and this girl, 
who was a real Christian herself, had called them forth. 
Perhaps the spirit of the remarkable meeting which they 
had just attended had helped to make it a fitting time and 
prepare their minds so that it came about quite naturally. 
Grace was no insistent evangelist, flinging her message 
out and demanding an answer. She breathed the fra¬ 
grance of Christianity in her smile, and her words came 
involuntarily from a heart that thought much “on 
these things.” 

The immediate result of the talk became apparent as 
they were getting out of the car at the minister’s house. 
Carey was to drive his own people on to their home, and 
then put the car in its garage, two blocks farther up 
the hill. 

As Grace turned to say, '‘Good night,” Carey leaned 
out and asked, “What time did you say that Christian 
Endeavor met?” 

“Oh, yes, seven o’clock!” said the girl eagerly, not 
at all as if it were a doubtful question whether the young 
man would come or not. “And don’t forget the choir 
rehearsal. That is Friday evening at our house, you know.” 

“I’ll be there!” said Carey graciously. 

Cornelia, too astonished for words that Carey was 
arranging for all these church functions, easily yielded to 
the request; and they parted for the night, the sister with 
a singing in her heart that her brother was getting to 
be friends with a girl like the minister’s daughter. Now 
surely, surely he would stop going with girls like Clytie 


282 


RE-CREATIONS 


Dodd. Probably that girl would be offended at the way 
she had been left without even an apology, and would drop 
Carey now. She sat back with a sigh of relief, and dis¬ 
missed this one burden from her young heart. Could 
she have known what plots were at that very moment 
revolving in the vengeful girl’s mind, and being suggested 
to her hilarious and willing group of companions amid 
shouts of laughter, she would not have rested her soul 
so easily, nor enjoyed the wonderful moonlight that glori¬ 
fied even the mean little street where she lived. The devil 
is not idle when angels throng most around, and Cornelia 
had yet to learn that a single victory is not a whole battle 
won. But perhaps, if she had known she would not have 
had the courage and faith to go forward; and it is weM 
that the step ahead is always just out of sight. 


CHAPTER XXIV 


For three long, beautiful weeks Cornelia enjoyed her 
calm and hope climbed high. 

The stone columns of the pretty front porch grew 
rapidly, and began to take on comeliness. Brand endeared 
himself to them all by his cheerful, steady, patient aid, 
coming every afternoon attired in overalls, and working 
hard till dark, getting his white hands callous and dirty, 
cut with the stones, and hard as nails. Once Cornelia had 
to tie an ugly cut he got when a stone fell on his hand; 
and he looked at her lovingly, and thanked her just like 
a child. From that time forth she gathered him into her 
heart with her brothers and sister, and began genuinely 
to like him and be anxious for his welfare. It seemed 
that his mother and sister were society people, and made 
little over him at home. He had his own companions 
and went his own way without consulting them; and, 
although he must have had a wonderful mansion of a 
home, he seemed much to prefer the little cozy house of 
the Copley's, and spent many evenings there as well as 
days. He seemed to be as much interested in getting 
the stone porch done as Carey himself, and he often worked 
away alone when Carey felt he must stay at the garage 
awhile to get money enough for more stone or more cement 
and sand. Once or twice Cornelia suspected from a few 
words she gathered, as the boys were arguing outside the 
window, that Brand had offered to supply the needed funds 

28* 


284 


RE-CREATIONS 


rather than have Carey leave to earn them; but she recog¬ 
nized proudly that Carey always declined emphatically 
such financial assistance. 

Now and then Brand would order Carey to “doll up,” 
and would whirl him away in his car to see a man some¬ 
where with the hope of a position; but as yet nothing 
had come of these various expeditions, although Carey 
was always hopeful and kept telling about a new “lead,” 
as he called it, with the same joyous assurance of youth. 

Brand, too, had been drawn into the young people’s 
choir, and took a sudden interest in Sunday-night church. 
Once he went with Cornelia, and found the place in the 
hymn book for her, and sang lustily at her side. The next 
Sunday he was sitting up in the choir loft beside Carey 
and acting as if he were one of the chief pillars in that 
church. It was wonderful how eagerly he grasped a thing 
that caught his interest. He had a wild, care-free, loving 
nature, and bubbled over with life and recklessness; but 
he was easily led if anybody chose to give him a little 
friendship. It seemed that he led a starved life so far 
as loving care was concerned, and he accepted eagerly any 
little favor done for him. Cornelia soon found that he 
grew pleasantly into the little family group; and even the 
children accepted and loved him, and often depended 
upon him. 

Arthur Maxwell, too, had become an intimate friend 
of the family circle, and since Harry had come back from 
his trip to the mountains he could talk of nothing else but 
“Mr. Maxwell says this and Mr. Maxwell does that,” till 


RE-CREATIONS 


284 

the family began gently to poke fun at him about it. Never¬ 
theless, they were well pleased that they had such a friend. 
He came down one day, and took Cornelia off for the 
whole afternoon on a wonderful drive in the country. 
They brought back a great basket of fruit and armfuls of 
wild flowers and vines. Another day he took her to a 
nursery where they selected some vines for the front 
porch, some climbing roses and young hedge-plants, which 
he proceeded to set out for her on their return. Then next 
day a big box of chocolates was delivered at the door withj 
his card. But his mother had not been out for her promised 
visit yet; for she had been called away on a business trip 
to California the day after she reached home, and had 
decided to remain with her relatives there for a month 
or six weeks. Cornelia as she daily beautified her pretty 
home kept wondering what Mrs. Maxwell would say to 
it when she did come. But most of all she wondered about 
her own dear mother, and what she would say to the glori¬ 
fied old house when she got back to it again. 

Great news had been coming from the sanitarium 
where the mother was taking the rest-cure. The nurse 
said that she grew decidedly better from the day the let¬ 
ter arrived telling how Carey was singing in the church 
choir and going to Christian Endeavor, and building a 
front porch. The nurse’s letter did not show that she 
laid any greater stress on any one of these occupations than 
on the others, but Cornelia knew that her mother’s heart 
was rejoicing that the boy had found a place in the church 
of God where he was interested enough to go to work. 


£86 


RE-CREATIONS 


In her very next letter she told about the minister’s people, 
and described Grace Kendall, telling of Carey’s friendship 
for her. Again the nurse wrote how much good that 
letter had done the mother, so that she sat up for quite a 
little while that day without feeling any ill effects from 
it. Cornelia began to wonder whether Clytie had been at 
the bottom of some of her mother’s trouble, and to con¬ 
gratulate herself on the fact that Clytie had suffered eclipse 
at last. 

About this time Maxwell arrived one evening while 
Carey was putting the finishing-touches to the front porch, 
and instead of coming in as was his custom, he sat down 
on a pile of floor-boards and talked with Carey. 

Cornelia, hearing low, earnest voices, stepped quietly 
to the window and looked out, wondering to see Maxwell 
talking so earnestly with her brother. She felt proud that 
the older young man was interested enough in him to 
linger and talk, and wondered whether it might be politics 
or the last baseball score that was absorbing them. Then 
she heard Maxwell say: “You’ll be there at eight to¬ 
morrow morning, will you? He wants to talk with you 
in his private office before the rush of the day begins.” 

In a moment more Maxwell came into the house, bring¬ 
ing with him a great box of gorgeous roses, and in her joy 
over the roses, arranging them in vases, she forgot to 
wonder what Maxwell and her brother had been talking 
about. He might have told her, perhaps, but they were 
interrupted almost immediately, much to her disappoint¬ 
ment, by callers. First, the carpenter next door ran in 


RE-CREATIONS 


287 


to say he was building a bungalow in a new suburb for a 
bride and groom, and the man wanted to furnish the house 
throughout before he brought his wife home, to surprise 
her. The bride didn’t know he was building, but thought 
they would have to board for a while; and he wanted 
everything pretty and shipshape for her before she came, 
so they could go right in and begin to live. He didn’t 
have a lot of money for furnishing, and the carpenter had 
found out about it, and told him about Cornelia. Would 
she undertake the job on a percentage basis, taking for 
selecting the things ten per cent, say, on what they cost, 
and charging her usual prices for any work she had to do?” 

Cornelia at the door facing out into the starlight, 
flushed with pleasure over the new business opportunity, 
and made arrangements in a happy tone to meet the new 
householder the next morning, talk plans over with him, 
and find out what he wanted. The young man in the liv¬ 
ing room, waiting for her, pretending to turn over the 
pages of a magazine that lay on the table was furtively 
watching her the while and thinking how fine she was, 
how enterprising and successful, and yet how sweet withal 1 
How right his mother had been! He smiled to himself 
to think how nearly always right his mother was, anyhow, 
and wondered again, as he had done before, whether his 
mother had a hidden reason for sending him out with 
those ferns that first night. 

Cornelia returned in a flutter of pleasure, and was 
scarcely seated when there came another summons to the 
door; and there stood the minister’s wife. She came in 


288 


RE-CREATIONS 


and met Maxwell, and they had a pleasant little chat. Then 
Mrs. Kendall revealed her errand. She wanted Cornelia 
to give a series of talks on what she called “The House 
Beautiful and Convenient” to the Ladies’ Aid Society in 
the church. She had the course all outlined suggestively, 
with a place for all the questions that come up in making 
a house comfortable and attractive; and she wanted 
Cornelia to keep in mind the thought that many of her 
auditors would be people in very limited circumstances, 
with very little money or time or material at hand to use in 
making their homes lovely. She said there were many 
people in their church neighborhood who would be attracted 
by such a course to come to the church gatherings, and 
she wanted Cornelia to help. The Ladies’ Aid had voted 
to pay five dollars a lesson for such a course of talks as 
this, and had instructed her to secure some one for it at 
once, and she knew of no one so well fitted as Cornelia. 
Would Cornelia consider it for the trifle they could afford 
to pay? They were going to charge the women twenty- 
five cents a lesson, and hoped to make a little money on 
the enterprise for their Ladies’ Aid. Of course the re¬ 
muneration was small; but with her experience the work 
ought not to take much time, and she could have the added 
reward of knowing she was doing a lot of good and prob¬ 
ably brightening a lot of homes. Also it would bring her 
opportunities for other openings of the sort. 

“I just wish they could all see this lovely house from 
top J io bottom,” she said as she looked around. “It would 
do them a world of good.” 


RE-CREATIONS 


289 


“Why, they could,” said Cornelia, smiling. “I sup¬ 
pose I could clear it all up and let them go over it, if you 
think that would help any. I’d love to do the work if you 
think I’m able. I never talked in public in my life. I’m 
not sure I can.” 

“Oh, this isn’t talking in public,” said the minister’s 
wife eagerly. “This is just telling people that don’t know 
how, how to do things that you have done yourself. I’m 
sure you have that gift. I’ve listened to you talking, and 
you’re wonderfully interesting. But would you consider 
giving them a reception and letting them see how you have 
made your house lovely? That would be a wonderful 
addition, and I’m sure the ladies would be delighted to 
pay extra for that; and we’d all come over and help you 
clear up afterwards, and before, too, if you would let us, 
although I’m sure you always look in immaculate order 
for a reception or anything else every time I’ve ever 
been here.” 

When the matter was finally arranged and Mrs. 
Kendall had left, Carey came in, scrubbed, shaved, neatly 
attired, and proposed that they have a sing. Maxwell, 
nothing loath, joined in eagerly, and sang with all his 
splendid voice. Then after a time he asked Cornelia to 
play, and before they realized it the evening was over. Not 
until Carey said in his casual way, “Call me at quarter to 
seven, will you, Nell?—and turn on the hot water when 
you get down; that’s a dear,” did Cornelia remember her 
curiosity concerning the conversation between her brother 
19 


290 


RE-CREATIONS 


and Maxwell. Carey said nothing about it, and Cornelia 
was enough of a wise woman not to ask. 

But Carey told her the next morning. He was so 
excited he couldn’t keep it to himself. 

“Didn’t know I was going to be a salesman up at 
Braithwaite’s, did you?” he said quite casually between 
mouthfulls of breakfast. 

Harry paused in his chewing a second, and eyed him 
sceptically. 

“Yes, you are not!” he remarked scornfully, and went 
on chewing again. 

But Cornelia, eager-eyed, leaned forward. 

“What do you mean, Carey? Is that a fact?” 

“Well, just about,” said Carey, enjoying their bewil¬ 
derment. “Maxwell told me the manager wants to see 
me this morning. Says he’s had his eye on me for three 
months, been looking up everything about me, and, when 
that picture came out in the paper, he told Maxwell he 
guessed I’d do. Said they wanted a man that could jump 
into a situation like that and handle it, a man with nerve, 
you know, that had his wits about him. It’s up to me 
now to make good. If I do, I get the job all right. It 
isn’t great pay to start, only thirty bucks a week; but it’s 
all kinds of prospects ahead if I make good. Well, so- 
long; wish me luck.” And Carey flung out of the house 
amid the delighted exclamations of his astonished family. 

“O God, you have been good to us!” breathed Cornelia’s 
happy soul as she stood by the window, watching Carey’s 
broad shoulders and upright carriage as he hurried 


RE-CREATIONS 


291 


down the street to the car. Carey was happy. It fairly 
radiated even from his back, and he walked as if he trod 
the air. Cornelia was so glad she could have shouted, 
“Hallelujah!” Now, if he really got this position,—and 
it looked reasonably sure,—he was established in a good 
and promising way, and the family could stop worrying^ 
about him. 

What a wonderful young man Maxwell was to take 
all that trouble for a comparative stranger! Her eyes 
grew dreamy and her lips softened into a smile as she went 
over every detail of the evening before, remembering the 
snatches of talk she had caught and piecing them out with 
new meaning. She leaned over, and laid her face softly 
among the roses he had brought, and drew in a long, sweet 
breath of their fragrance. And he had been doing this 
for them all the time, and not said a word, lest nothing 
would come of it. As she thought about it now, she believed 
he had had the thought about doing something for Carey 
that first night when he came so unexpectedly to dinner, 
that dreadful dinner party! How far away and impossible 
it all seemed now! That terrible girl! What a fool she 
had been to think it necessary to invite any one like that 
to the house! If she had just let things go on and take 
their natural course, Maxwell would have dropped in 
that night, and they would have had a pleasant time, 
and all would have been as it was at present, without 
the mortification of that memory. Carey with his new 
ambitions and hopes would surely never now disgrace 


292 


RE-CREATIONS 


himself by going again with a girl like that. It had been 
an unnecessary crucifixion for the whole family. 

Yet they never would have known how splendid 
Maxwell could be in a trying time without her, perhaps. 
There was always something comforting somewhere. 
Still, she would like to be rid of the memory of that 
evening. It brought shame to her cheek even yet to 
remember the loud, nasal twang of the cheap voice, the 
floury face, the low-cut tight little gown, the air of aban¬ 
don ! Oh! It was awful! 

Then her mind went back to the day she returned from 
college, and to the sweet-faced, low-voiced woman who 
was the mother of this new friend. It hardly seemed 
as if the two belonged to the same world. What would 
she think if she ever heard of Clytie? Would the young 
man ever quite forget her, and wipe the memory from 
his mind so completely that it would never return to shadow 
those first days of their acquaintance? 

Carey returned early in the afternoon with an elastic 
step and a light of triumph in his face. He had been en¬ 
gaged as a salesman in one of the largest firms in the 
country, a business dealing with tools and machinery and 
requiring a wide grasp of various engineering branches. 
He was just in his element. He had been born with the 
instinct for machinery and mechanics. He loved every¬ 
thing connected with them. Also he was a leader and a 
natural mixer among men. All these things Maxwell 
later told Cornelia had counted in his favor. The fact 
that he was not a college man had been the only drawback; 


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but after the accident, and after the manager had had a 
long, searching talk with him, it had been decided that 
Carey had natural adaptability and hereditary culture 
enough to overcome that lack; and they voted to try him. 
The manager felt that there was good material in him. 
Maxwell did not tell Cornelia that what he had told the 
manager concerning her ability and initiative had had 
much to do with influencing the decision. The manager 
was a keen man. He knew a live family when he saw it; 
and, when he heard what Cornelia had accomplished in 
her little home, he was keen to see the brother. He felt 
that he also might be a genius! Now if Carey could only 
make good! 


CHAPTER XXV 


It was a wonderful day of June skies and roses. 
Maxwell had sent a note by special messenger to Cornelia 
to say that two world-tennis champions were to play at the 
Cricket Grounds that afternoon and would she like to go? 
If so he would call for her at two o’clock. 

So Cornelia had baked macaroni and cheese, roasted 
some apples and made a chocolate cornstarch pudding. 
There was cold meat in the refrigerator, and she wrote a 
note to Louise in case she should be late. 

She looked very pretty and slim in her dark blue crepe 
de chene made over with an odd little idea in pockets to 
cover where it had to be pieced. She resurrected an old 
dark blue hat with a becoming brim, re-dyed it and 
wreathed it with a row of little pale pink velvet roses. No¬ 
body would ever have guessed that the roses were old ones 
that had been cleaned and retouched with the paint brush 
till they glowed like new ones. She added a string of queer 
Chinese beads that one of the girls at college had given 
her, and looked as chic and pretty as any girl could desire 
when Maxwell called for her. His eyes showed their 
admiration as he came up the steps and found her ready, 
waiting for him, her cheeks flushed a pretty pink, her eyes 
starry, little rings of brown hair blowing out here and 
there about her face. 

“That’s a nice hat,” he said contentedly, his eyes taking 
in her whole harmonious costume, “New one isn’t it? At 

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least I never saw it before.” He noted with pleasure that 
her complexion was not applied. 

“A real girl!” he was saying to himself in a kind of 
inner triumph! “A real girl! What a fool I used to be!” 

The day was wonderful, and there was a big box of 
chocolates in the car. Cornelia listening to her happy 
heart found it singing. 

They made long strides in friendship as they drove 
through the city and out to the Cricket Club grounds, and 
Cornelia’s cheeks grew pinker with joy. It seemed as 
though life were very good indeed to her today. 

They drove the car into the grounds, found a good 
place to park it and were just about to go to their seats 
on the grand stand when a young, gimlet-eyed flapper 
with bobbed hair rushed up crying: 

“Oh, Arthur Maxwell, won’t you please go over to the 
gym dressing rooms and find Tommy Fergus for me. 
He promised to meet me here half an hour ago, and I’m 
nearly dead standing in this sun. I’d go in and sit down 
but he has the tickets and he promised on his honor not 
to be late. I knew it would be just like this if he tried 
to play a set before the tournament.” 

There was nothing for Maxwell to do but introduce 
the curious-eyed maiden to Cornelia and go on the mis¬ 
sion, and the young woman climbed up beside Cornelia 
and began to chatter. 

It appeared that her name was Dotty Chapman, that 
she was a sort of cousin of Maxwell’s, and that she knew 
everybody and everything that had to do with the Cricket 


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296 

Club. She chattered on like a magpie, telling Cornelia 
who all the people were that by this time were coming in 
a stream through the arched gateway. Cornelia found 
it rather interesting. 

‘That's Senator Brown’s daughter. She won the blue 
ribbon at the Horse Show last winter. That’s her brother 
—no, not the fat one, the man on the right. He’s the 
famous polo player. And that’s Harry Harlow, yes, the 
tall one. He’s a nut! You’d die laughing to hear him. 
There, that girl’s the woman champion in tennis this year, 
and the man with her is Mrs. Carter Rounds’ first husband, 
you remember. They say he’s gone on another woman 
now. There goes Jason Casper’s fiancee. Isn’t she ugly? 
I don’t see what he sees in her, but she’s got stacks of 
money, so I suppose he doesn’t care. Say, do you know 
Arthur Maxwell’s fiancee? I’m dying to meet her. They 
say she is simply stunning. I saw her in the distance 
dancing at the Roof Garden the other night, but it was 
only for a second. Somebody pointed her out, I’m not sure 
I’d know her. They say she is very foreign in her ap¬ 
pearance. Have you met her yet ? Isn’t that she now, just 
getting out of that big blue car with Bob Channing? I 
believe it is. Look! Did you ever see such a slim figure ? 
And that frock is the darlingest. They say all her clothes 
come from abroad and are designed especially for her. 
The engagement isn’t announced yet you know, but it 
will be I suppose as soon as Mrs. Maxwell gets home again. 
Miss Chantry doesn’t wish it spoken of even among her 
most intimate friends until then, she doesn’t tjiink it 


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is courteous to her future mother-in-law, that’s why she 
goes around with other men so much. She told my cousin 
Lucia so. But everybody knows it of course. You, I 
suppose you know all about it too? There he comes! 
They’re going to meet! I wonder how they’ll act. Isn’t 
it thrilling. My goodness! Don’t they carry it off well, 
he’s hardly stopping to speak. I don’t believe she likes 
it, I wouldn’t, would you? Isn’t that white crepe with 
the scarlet trimmings just entrancing? But where on 
earth is Tommy! He didn’t bring him. Oh—why 
Tommy! Is that you? Where on earth have you been? 
Didn’t Mr. Maxwell find you? He’s been after you, 
there he is coming now! What made you keep me wait¬ 
ing so long? I’ve stood here an hour and simply cooked! 
What? You meant the other gate? Well, what’s the dif¬ 
ference? Why didn’t you say so? Oh, well, don’t fuss 
so, let’s go find our seats. What ? Oh, yes, this is Miss— 
Cope did you say? Copley? Oh yes! Miss Copley, Mr. 
Fergus. Thank you so much, Cousin Arthur. Good-bye.’* 

She was gone, vanishing behind the neighboring grand 
stand, but so wa§ the glory of the day. 

Cornelia’s face looked strangely white and tired as 
Maxwell helped her down, and she found her feet unsteady 
as she walked beside him silently to their seats. There 
was something queer the matter with her heart. It kept 
stopping suddenly and then turning over with a jerk. 
The sun seemed to have darkened about her and her feet 
seemed weighted. 

“That girl is a perfect pest,” he said frowning as he 


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helped Cornelia to her seat. “I was just afraid she was 
going to wish herself on us for the afternoon. She has 
a habit of doing that and I didn’t mean to have it this 
time. I was prepared to hire a substitute for the lost 
Tommy if he didn’t materialize. Her mother is a second 
or third cousin of my grandmother’s aunt or something 
like that and she is always asking favors.” 

Cornelia tried to smile and murmur something pleas¬ 
ant, but her lips seemed stiff, and when she looked up 
she noticed that he was hurriedly scanning the benches 
on the other side of the rectangle. Following his glance 
her eyes caught a glimpse of white set off by vivid scarlet. 
Ah! Then it was true! Her sinking heart put her to 
sudden shame and revealed herself to herself. 

This then had been the secret of her great happiness 
and of the brightness of the day. She had been presum¬ 
ing on the kindness of this stranger and actually jumping 
to the conclusion that he was paying her special attention. 
What folly had been hers! How she had always despised 
girls who gave their hearts before they were asked, 
who took too much for granted from a few pleasant 
little attentions. 

Mr. Maxwell had done nothing that any gentleman 
might not have done for a casual friend of his mother’s. 
When she began to sift the past few weeks in her thoughts, 
his attentions had mainly been spent on her brothers. A 
few roses, and this invitation this afternoon. Nothing 
that any sensible girl would think a thing of. She was 
a fool, that was all there was of it, an everlasting fool, 
and now she must rouse herself somehow from this ghastly 


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£99 


sinking* feeling that had come over her and keep him 
from reading her very thoughts. He must never suspect 
her unwomanliness. He must never know how she had 
misconstrued his kindness. Oh, if she could only get 
away into the cool and dark for a minute and lie down 
and close her eyes, she could get hold of herself. But that 
was out of the question. She must sit here and smile 
in the sun with the gleam of scarlet across the courts and 
never, never let him suspect. He was all right, of course he 
was, all right and fine, and he doubtless thought that she too 
knew all about his fiancee, only he could not speak about 
it now because the lady had placed her commands upon 
him for his mother’s sake. How nice to honor his mother! 

A breath of a sigh escaped her and she straightened 
up and tried to look bright and interesting. 

“ You are tired l” he said turning to look into her eyes. 
“I don’t believe this is going to be a restful thing for you 
at all. Wouldn’t you rather get out of here and just take 
a ride or something—in the Park perhaps ?” 

“Oh, no indeed!” said Cornelia quickly sitting up very 
straight and trying to shake off the effects of the shock 
she had suffered, “I’ve always wanted to see a great tour¬ 
nament, and I’ve never had the opportunity. Now tell me 
all the things I need to know please to be an intelli¬ 
gent witness.” 

He began telling her about the two world famous 
men who were to play, about their good points and their 
weak ones, and to give a scientific treatise on certain kinds 
of services and returns, and she gave strict attention and 
asked intelligent questions, and was getting on very well, 


$00 


RE-CREATIONS 


keeping her own private thoughts utterly in the back¬ 
ground, when suddenly he said: 

“Do you see that lady in white just directly opposite 
us? White with scarlet trimmings. I wish you would 
look at her a moment. Here, take the field glasses. Some¬ 
time I am going to tell you about her.” 

Cornelia tried to steady her hand as she adjusted 
the glasses to her eyes, and to steady her lips for a question: 

“Is she—a— friend?” 

“I hardly think you’d call it that— any more!” he 
answered in a curiously hard tone. But Cornelia was too 
preoccupied to notice. 

“Shall we—meet her?” she asked after studying the 
exquisite doll face across the distance, and wondering if 
it really were as wonderfully perfect close at hand. Won¬ 
dering too why she seemed to suddenly feel disappointed 
in the man beside her if this was his choice of a wife.” 

“I think not ” he said decidedly, and then as a sudden 
clapping arose, growing, like a swift moving shower, 
“There, there they are! The players. That’s the English¬ 
man, that big chap, and this man, this is our man. See 
how supple he is. He has a great reach. Watch 
him now.” 

After that there was no more opportunity to talk per¬ 
sonalities and Cornelia was glad that she could just sit still 
and watch, although with her preoccupied mind she might 
as well have been at home cooking dinner for all she 
knew about that tournament. The players came and went 
like little puppets in a show, the ball flew back and forth, 
and games and sets were played, but she knew no more 


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301 


about it than if she had not been there. Now and then 
her eyes furtively stole a glance across the way at the 
scarlet line on the white. 

Maxwell had glanced at her curiously several times. 
Her attitude was one of deep attention. She smiled just 
as pleasantly when he spoke, but somehow her voice had 
lost the spring out of it and he could not help thinking 
she was weary. 

“Let’s get out of here before the crowd begins to push,’' 
lie whispered, as the last set was finished and the antagon¬ 
ists shook hands under fire of the heavy rounds of applause. 

He guided her out to the car so quickly that they 
almost escaped the rush, but just within a few paces of the 
car they came suddenly upon the voluble Dotty and 
her escort. 

“Oh, Cousin Artie!” cried Dotty eagerly, “I've just 
been telling Tommy that I knew you would take us over 
to Overbrook if we could catch you in time. You see we 
both have a dinner engagement out to Aunt Myra’s and 
we’ve missed the only train that would get us there in 
time. You won’t mind will you Miss Cope, Copley, I 
mean. It isn’t far and you know how cross Aunt Myra 
gets when any of us are late to an engagement with her, 
don’t you Artie?” 

“Not at all!” answered Cornelia coolly as soon as 
there was opportunity to speak, “my home is right on 
the way.” 

Maxwell accepted the situation with what grace he 
could. Dotty climbed into the front seat when he opened 
the door for Cornelia. 


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“You can sit back there with Miss Copley, Tommy/’ 
she laughed back at the other two. “I choose front seat. 
I just love to watch Cousin Arthur drive.” 

Arthur Maxwell scarcely spoke a word during the 
whole drive and Cousin Dotty chattered on in an uninter¬ 
rupted flow of nothings. Cornelia found herself discus¬ 
sing the game and various plays with a technique newly 
acquired, and being thankful that she did not have to 
ride alone with Maxwell—not now—not until she had got 
herself in hand. It was all right of course, and he was 
perfectly splendid but she had been a silly little fool and 
she had to get things set straight again before she cared 
to meet him as a friend. Oh, it would be all right, she 
assured herself minute by minute, only she must just get 
used to it. She hadn’t at all realized how she had been 
thinking of him and she was glad that the romance of 
this afternoon had been destroyed, so that she would not 
And herself in future weakness lingering over any pleasant 
phrases or little nothings that would link her soul to dis¬ 
appointment. She wanted to be just plain, matter of fact. 
A respectable girl going out for an afternoon with a re¬ 
spectable man who was soon to be married to another 
woman who understood all about it. There was nothing 
whatever the matter with that situation and that was the 
way she must look at it of course. She must get used 
to it and gradually make her family understand too. Not 
that they had thought anything else yet—of course, but 
it would be well for them to understand from the start 
that there was no nonsense about her friendship with 
Maxwell, and that they need not appropriate him in such 


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303 


wholesome manner as they had begun to do. She was 
a business woman, meant to be a business woman all her 
life, and she would probably have lots of nice friendships 
like this one. 

Thus she reasoned in undertone with herself, the 
while she discussed tennis with the bored Tommy, and 
came finally to her own door realizing suddenly that 
Arthur Maxwell would perhaps not care to have his ele¬ 
gant cousin know from what lowly neighborhoods he 
selected his friends. But. she held her head high as she 
stood on the pavement to bid them good-bye, and not by 
the quiver of an eyelash on her flushed cheek did she let 
them see that she did not like her surroundings. 

Arthur Maxwell stepped up to the door with her in 
spite of his cousin's petulant protest, “Artie, we'll be late 
to Aunt Myra's" and said in a low tone: 

“This whole afternoon has been spoiled by that poor 
little idiot, but I’m going to make up for it soon, see if 
I don’t. I’m sorry I have a director’s meeting this even¬ 
ing or I’d ask if I might return to dinner, but I’m going 
to be late as it is when I get those two poor fools to their 
destination, so I’ll have to forego, but suppose I come 
over tomorrow evening and go to church with you? May 
I? Then afterwards perhaps we’ll have a little chance 
to talk." 

Cornelia smiled and assented, and hurried up to dash 
cold water over her hot cheeks and burning eyes, and then 
down to the kitchen where Louise was bustling happily 
about putting the final touches to the evening meal. 

“Oh, Nellie!" she greeted her sister, “Have you got 


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back already? I thought perhaps he’d take you some¬ 
where to dinner. They do, you know. I’ve read about 
it. But wasn’t he lovely to take you to that game. All 
the boys at school were talking about it and one of the 
girls had a ticket to go with her brother. I think it was 
just wonderful. I’m so glad you had that nice time! You 
are so dear! Now tell me about it.” 

And Cornelia told, all she could remember about the 
day and the ride and the wonderful game, told things she 
had not known she noticed by the wayside, told about 
Dotty and Tommy, and even gave a hint of a wonderful 
friend of Mr. Maxwell’s who wore a white, soft, silk dress 
lined with scarlet and carried a gold mesh bag, till Louise’s 
eyes grew large with wonder, though she looked a little 
grave when she heard about the lady. Cornelia hid her 
heavy heart under smiles and words and was gayer than 
usual, and very very tired when she crept at last to bed, 
where she might not even weep lest the little sister should 
know the secret of her foolish heart. 

Saturday morning dawned with all its burden and re¬ 
sponsibility, a new day full of new cares, and the gladness 
of yesterday gone into graver tints. But Cornelia would 
not own to herself that she was unhappy. There was 
work to do and she would immerse herself in it and forget. 
There was no need being a fool always when once one 
had found out one was. And anyway she meant to live 
for her family—Her dear family! 


CHAPTER XXVI 


Cornelia had had a brief space of anxiety lest her 
brother should begin to feel his own importance and per¬ 
haps offend his chief in being entirely too smart in his 
own conceit. But it soon became apparent that the chief 
was a big enough man to have impressed Carey and made 
him a devoted servant. He kept quoting what he said 
with awe and reverence and showing great delight at being 
admitted to the inner sanctum and intrusted with impor¬ 
tant affairs. 

Carey was to begin his new work on Monday morning, 
and all Saturday as he went about doing various little 
things, pressing his trousers, picking up his laundry, get¬ 
ting his affairs in order to leave all day as other business 
men had to do every day, he kept dropping into the room 
where his sister was at work on some pretty dresses for 
Louise, and telling with a light in his eyes and a ring of 
pleasure in his voice what “the boss” had said or done, 
or how the office was furnished, and how many salesmen 
and stenographers there were. And he could not say 
enough about Maxwell. 

“That fellow’s a prince!” he exclaimed. “D’ye know 
it? A perfect prince of a man. He might have run in 
any number of friends, old friends, you know, instead of 
mentioning me. I can’t make out what made him. The ? 
boss took me out to lunch with him today at a swell restau¬ 
rant. Gee! It was great! Lobster salad, cafe parfait, 

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and all that! Some lunch! Took the best part of a ten- 
dollar bill to pay for it, too. Oh, boy! It was great! 
Think of me! And he told me how much Maxwell thought 
©f me, and how he believed I’d bear it out, and all that 
dope. He talked a lot about personal appearance, and £ 
pleasant manner, and keeping my temper, and that line, 
you know. Gee! It’s going to be hard, but it’s going to 
be great. He told me that it was up to me how high I 
climbed. There wasn’t any limit practically if I stuck it 
out and made good. And believe me, I’m going to stick. 

I like that guy, and I like the business. Say, Nell, do 
you think this necktie would clean? I always liked this 
necktie. And whaddaya think? I’ve got to wear hard 
collars. Fierce, isn’t it? but I guess I can get used to 
’em. Say where’s that old silk shirt of mine ? I wonder 
if you could mend a tear in the sleeve. I’ll have to keep 
dolled up in glad rags a lot now, and I have to get every¬ 
thing in shape. Imagine it. I’ve got to take big guys 
out to lunch myself sometimes, and show them the ropes, 
and all that. Gee! Isn’t it wonderful?” 

So Cornelia laid aside the rose-colored gingham and 
the blue-flowered muslin she was making for Louise, and 
mended shirts, ironed neckties, and helped press coats, 
until Carey expressed himself as altogether pleased with 
his outfit, and joy bubbled over in the house. That night 
and ail the next day their hearts seemed so light that 
they were in danger of having their feet lifted off the 
ground with the joy of it. 


RE-CREATIONS 307 

Brand came over after lunch as usual, and heard the 
news. He looked a bit sober over it, although he con¬ 
gratulated his friend warmly; but once or twice Cornelia 
caught him looking wistfully at Carey, as if somehow he 
had suddenly grown away from him; and she realized 
that it was the first break in their boyhood life. For Carey 
was a new Carey since the morning, walking with a spring 
in his step, giving a command in the tone of one who had 
authority, making a decision as one who had long been 
accustomed to being recognized as having a right. He 
had in a single morning become a man, and seemed for 
the time to have put away childish things. He even de¬ 
clined to take a ride with Brand after dinner, to which 
Brand had stayed, saying that he had promised to run 
over to the Kendalls after dinner and try over the music 
for tomorrow. Ordinarily Brand would have gone along 
without even being asked, but there was about Carey such 
a manner of masterfulness, and of being aloof and having 
grave matters to attend to, that the boy hesitated with a 
wistful, puzzled look; and, when Cornelia, half sensing 
his feeling, said, “Well, Brand, you stay here with me, 
and we’ll go over that music too,” he laughed happily, and 
sat down again, letting Carey go out by himself. 

It was altogether plain that Carey didn’t even see it. 
Carey was exalted. His head was in the clouds, and a 
happy smile played over his face continually. 

Brand stayed all the evening till Carey came back at 
half past ten, still with that happy, exalted smile on his 


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face; and then Brand, with an amused, almost hopeless 
expression, laughingly bade good night to Cornelia, telling 
her he'd had “a peach of a time." Just as he was going 
out the door he looked back, and said soberly: “I might 
have a job myself next week. Dad wants me to come 
in the office with him this summer, and I believe I will." 
Then he went away without any of the usual racket and 
showing off of his noisy car. 

Carey's new dignity carried him to church the next 
morning, and to a special Children’s Day service in the 
afternoon, where he had been asked to usher; and joy still 
sat on his face when he returned at four o’clock and lolled 
around the living room, restless and talking of the mor¬ 
row, now and then telling some trifling incident of the 
afternoon, humming over a tune that had been sung, and 
finally asking Cornelia to play and sing with him the music 
for the evening. It was altogether so unusual to have 
Carey at home like this all day Sunday, and seeming to 
be happy in it, that Cornelia was excitedly happy herself, 
and every little while Louise would look at him joyously 
and say, “O Carey, you look so nice in that new suit!” 

It was like a regular love-feast, and Cornelia began to 
tell her anxious heart that Carey really was started on the 
right way. There was no further need to worry about 
him at all. Perhaps there hadn’t ever been. Perhaps 
it was all only because he hadn’t had the right kind of job. 

It was just six o’clock. The Copleys had elected to have 
their Sunday-night supper after the evening service, and 


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cm 

to that end Cornelia had prepared delectable lettuce, cheese, 
and date sandwiches, and had wrapped them in a damp 
cloth in the ice-box to be ready. There was a fruit salad 
all ready also, and a maple cake. It would take but a 
few minutes to make a pot of chocolate, and they would 
eat around the fire in the living room. Maxwell had prom¬ 
ised to come early and go to church with them. Cornelia 
rather dreaded the ordeal for she felt sure that Maxwell 
meant to tell her about the crimson lady. Well, she might 
as well get it over at once and have him understand that 
she knew exactly where she stood. 

She had gone upstairs to dress and left Carey lying 
on the couch, looking into the fire, dreamily listening to 
Louise and Harry playing hymn times as duets. She plan¬ 
ned to write a letter to her mother early the next morning 
giving her a picture of their beautiful Sunday and telling 
the news about Carey. She was flying around getting 
dressed for the evening when she heard a car come up to the 
front and stop. It came quietly, almost stealthily; so it 
could not be Brand. Could it be that Arthur Maxwell had 
arrived so soon ? She tiptoed into her father’s room to look 
out of the window. If it was Maxwell, she must hurry and 
go downstairs. 

The car was a shabby old affair with a rakish air, and 
she could not see the face of the man who sat in the 
driver’s seat. A small boy was coming in the gate with a 
letter in his hand, which he pulled from his pocket, looking 
up at the house apprehensively. There was something 


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familiar about the slouch of the boy, and about the limp- 
ness of his unkempt hair as he dragged his cap off and 
knocked at the door, but she could not place it. 

A vague unnamed apprehension seized her, and her 
fingers flew fast among the long strands of soft hair, put¬ 
ting them quickly into shape so that she might go down 
and see what was the matter. Two or three hairpins which 
had been in her hand as she hurried, to the window she 
stuck in anywhere to hold the coils. She hurried to her 
room, seized her dress, began to slip it on, and flew back 
to the post of observation at the window. She heard 
Carey get up and open the door, and she strained to hear 
what the boy said, but could not make out anything but a 
low mutter. Carey was reading the note. What could 
it be? Clytie? Oh! 

Her heart gave a great leap of terror. It was almost 
time for Christian Endeavor! But surely, surely Carey 
would not pay any heed to that girl now. With all the new 
ambitions and opportunities opening before him! 

Carey had made an exclamation, and was following 
the boy rapidly out to the car. Oh! What could he be 
going to do? 

Cornelia fastened the last snap of her dress, and fairly 
flew downstairs; but, when she reached the door the car 
was driving madly off up the hill, and Carey was no¬ 
where in sight. The children were still playing duets, and 
had not noticed. 

Cornelia turned back to look into the room again and 
make sure he was not there, and she saw Carey’s new 


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311 


panama hat hanging on the hook back by the staircase 
where he had put it when he came in from afternoon serv¬ 
ice. She drew a breath of relief, and called, in a lull of 
the music, “Louie, where is Carey ?” 

The little girl turned and looked wonderingly at her 
sister’s anxious face. 

“Why, he was here just a minute ago, Nellie; what’s 
the matter? I think he went out the front door.” 

He was gone! Cornelia knew it, and her heart sank 
with a horrible sickening thud. She went back to the 
door, and looked down the street and then up the hill, 
where the car was a mere black speck in the distance. Her 
heart was beating so that it seemed the children must hear 
it. She tried to think, but all that came was a wild jumble 
of ideas. The meeting that night! Carey had a short solo 
in the anthem! Suppose he shouldn’t get back! What 
should she say to Grace ? How could his absence possibly 
be explained? He couldn’t—he wouldn't do a thing like 
that, would he? He had gone without his hat; perhaps 
he expected to return immediately. She was foolish to 
get so frightened. Carey had been doing so wonderfully 
all day. He certainly had sense enough not to make a 
fool of himself now. 

But her heart would not be quieted, and she trembled 
in every fibre. She hurried down the steps and to the 
sidewalk looking up the hill where the car had just dis¬ 
appeared, and her hand pressed against her heart to steady ( 
its fluttering. She did not see Maxwell’s car drive up 
until it stopped; and, when she looked at him, a new fear 


312 RE-CREATIONS 

seized her. Maxwell must not know that she was at raid 
about that girl. He had gone to a lot of trouble for Carey, 
and he would not like it. It might lose Carey the posi¬ 
tion. She tried to command a smile, but the white face 
she turned toward him belied it. 

“Is anything the matter ?” he asked, stopping his car 
and jumping out beside her. Then he stooped, and picked 
up something from the pavement at her feet. 

“Is this yours? Did you drop it?” 

She looked down, took the bit of paper, and her face 
grew whiter still as she caught the words, “Dear Carey.” 
It must be the note the boy had brought, and suddenly 
she knew who that boy had been. It was Clytie 
Dodd’s brother! 


CHAPTER XXVII 


For a second everything swam before her eyes, and 
it seemed as though she could not stand up. Maxwell 
■ put out his hand in alarm to steady her. 

* “Hadn’t you better go into the house ?” he asked anx¬ 
iously. “You look ill. Do you feel faint?” 

“Oh, I’m all right,” she said almost impatiently. “I’m 
just worried. Maybe there isn’t anything the matter, but 
—it looks very—queer. This must be the note the 
boy brought.” 

She began to read the note, which was written in a 
clear feminine hand on fine note paper: 

“Dear Carey, I came out here to see a Sunday-school 
scholar who is sick, and I am in great trouble. Come to 
me quick! I’m out at Lamb’s Tavern. 

“Grace.” 

“I don’t understand it,” faltered Cornelia, looking up 
at Maxwell helplessly. “She—this! It is signed ‘Grace,’ 
and looks as if Grace Kendall wrote it. I am sure Carey 
thought so when he went. But—Grace Kendall was at 
home only a few minutes ago. She called me up to ask 
me to bring some music she had left here when I come 
to church. How could she have got out there so soon?” 

Maxwell took the note, and read it with a glance, then 
turned the paper over, and felt its thickness. 

“Curious they should have such stationery at Lamb’s 
Tavern. Who brought it?” 


S13 


S14 


RE-CREATIONS 


“A boy. I’m not sure. He looked as if I had seen 
him before. He might have, been—■” she hesitated, and 
the color stole into her cheeks. The trouble was deep 
in her eyes. “He might have been a boy who came here 
on an errand once; I wasn’t certain. I only saw him 
from the window.” 

“You knew him?” 

“Why—I had just a suspicion that he might have been 
that Dodd girl’s brother.” She lifted pained eyes to 
meet his. 

“I see,” he said, his tone kindling with sympathy. 
“Has she any—ah —further reason for revenge than what 
I know?” 

“Yes,” owned Cornelia. “She sent word to Carey 
to call her up, and he didn’t do it. She had invited him 
to go on an automobile ride. He didn’t go, and we were 
all away when they must have stopped for him.” 

“I see. Will you call up Miss Kendall on some pre¬ 
text or other, and find out if she is at her home ? Quickly, 
please.” His tone was grave and kindly, but wholly busi¬ 
nesslike and Cornelia, feeling that she had found a strong 
helper, sped into the house on her trembling feet, giving 
thanks that the telephone had just been put in last week. 

Maxwell stood beside her as she called the number, 
silently waiting. 

“Hello. Is that you, Grace? Was it ‘Oh, eyes that 
are weary’ that you wanted me to bring? Thank you, yes; 
I thought so, but I wanted to make sure; good-bye.” 

Maxwell had not waited to hear more than that Miss 


RE-CREATIONS 


su 


Kendall was at home. He strode out to his car; and, when 
Cornelia reached the door, he had his hand on the starter. 

“Oh, you mustn’t go alone!” she called. “Let me go 
with you.” 

“Not this time,” he answered grimly. “You go on 
to church if I’m not back.” He had not waited to finish; 
the car was moving; but a sturdy flying figure shot out 
of the door behind Cornelia, over the hedge, and caught 
on behind. Harry, with little to go by, had sensed what 
was in the air, and meant to be in at the finish. No, of 
course not; his adored Maxwell should not go alone to 
any place where Cornelia said “No” in that tone. He 
would go along. 

Louise, white-faced and quiet, with little hands clasped 
at her throat, stood just behind her sister, watching the 
car shoot up the hill and out of sight. 

“Sister, you think—it’s that girl again— don’t you?” 
she asked softly, looking with awe at the white-faced girl. 

“I’m afraid, Louie; I don’t know!” said Cornelia, 
turning with a deep, anxious sigh and dropping into a chair. 

“Yes, it must be,” said Louise. “And—that was that 
boy, wasn’t it ?—the same one she sent to say she was com¬ 
ing to the party. My! That was poor! She wasn’t very 
bright to do that, Nellie.” 

Cornelia did not answer. She had dropped her face 
into her hands, and was trembling. 

“Nellie, dear!” cried the little sister, kneeling before 
her and gathering her sister’s head into her young arms. 
“You mustn’t feel that way. God is taking care of us. 


510 


RE-CREATIONS 


He helped us before, you know. And He’s sent Mr. 
Maxwell. He’s just like an angel, isn’t he? Don’t you 
know that verse, ‘My God hath sent his angel, and hath 
shut the lions’ mouths’. Mother used to read us that story 
so often when Harry and I were going to sleep. Let’s just 
kneel down and pray; and pretty soon Carey ’ll come back 
all right, I shouldn’t wonder. I know he didn’t mean to< 
be away. He promised Grace; and I kind of don't think 
he likes that other girl so awfully any more now, do you?” 

“No, I think not; but, dear, I’m afraid this is a trick. 
I’m afraid they mean to keep him away to pay him back.” 

“Yes, I know,” said the wise little sister. “I read that 
note. You dropped it out of your pocket. Grace Kendall 
never wrote that. It isn’t her writing. She put her name 
in my birthday book, and she doesn’t make her Gs like 
that. She makes ’em with a long curl to the handle. They 
thought they were pretty smart; but Carey and Mr. 
Maxwell ’ll beat them to it, I’m sure, for they’ve got our 
God on, their side. I’m glad Harry went too. Harry’s 
got a lot of sense; and, if anything happens, Harry can 
run back and tell.” 

“O darling!” Cornelia clung to the little girl. 

“Well, it might—” said the child. “I’m glad father 
isn’t here. I hope it’s all over before he gets back. Was 
he coming back before church?” Cornelia shook her head. 

“He’s going to stay with Mr. Baker while his wife 
goes to church.” 

“Then let’s pray now, Nellie.” 

They knelt together beside the big gray chair in the 


RE-CREATIONS 


317 


silence of the twilight, hand in hand, and put up silent 
petitions; and then they got up and went to the window. 

The city had that gentle, haloed look of a chastened 
child in the afterglow of the sunset; and soft violets and 
purples were twisting in misty wreaths about the edges 
of the night. Bells were calling in the distance. A far¬ 
away chime could just be heard in tender waves that al¬ 
most obliterated the melody. The Sabbath hush was in 
the sky, broken now and again by harsh, rasping voices and 
laughter as a car sped by on the way home from some 
pleasure trip. Something hallowed seemed to linger above 
the little house, and all about was a sweet quiet. The 
neighbors had for the moment hushed their chatter. Now 
and again a far-distant twang of a cheap victrola broke 
out and died away, and then the silence would close around 
them again. The two sat waiting breathlessly on the 
pretty front porch that Carey had made, for Carey to 
come home. But Carey did not come. 

By and by the sound of singing young voices came dis¬ 
tinctly to their ears. It seemed to beat against their hearts 
and hurt them. 

“Nellie, you’ll have to go pretty soon. It’ll be so 
hard to explain, you know. And, besides, he might some¬ 
how be there. Carey wouldn’t stop for a hat. I almost 
think he’s there myself.” Louise sounded quite grown up. 

“Of course, he might,” said Cornelia thoughtfully. 
“There’s always a possibility that we have made a great 
deal more out of this than the facts merited.” She shud¬ 
dered. She had just drawn her mind back from a fearful 


313 RE-CREATIONS 

abyss of possibilities, and it was hard to get into everyday 
untragic thought. 

“I think we better go, Nellie,” said the little girl rising. 
“Christian ’deavor ’ll be most out before we can get there 
now, and she’ll think it queer if we don’t come, after she 
gave us both those verses to read. You won't like to 
tell her you were just sitting here on the front porch, 
doing nothing, because you thought Carey had gone to 
Lamb’s Tavern after her! I think we’d better go. We 
prayed, and we better trust God and go.” 

“Perhaps you’re right, dearie,” said Cornelia, rising 
reluctantly and giving a wistful glance up the hill into 
the darkness. 

They got ready hurriedly, put the key into its hiding- 
place, and went. Cornelia wrote a little note, and as soon 
as they got there sent it up with the music to Grace, who 
was at the piano. It said: 

“Dear Grace, Carey was called away for a few 
minutes, and he must have been detained longer than he 
expected. Don’t worry; I’m sure he will do everything 
in his power to get back in time.” 

Grace read the note, nodded brightly to the Copleys 
at the back of the room, and seemed not at all concerned. 
Cornelia, glad of the shelter of a secluded seat under 
the gallery, bent her head, and prayed continually. Little 
Louise, bright-eyed, with glowing cheeks, sat alertly up, 
and watched the door; but no Carey came. 

They slipped out into the darkness after the meeting 
was out, and walked around the corner where they could 


RE-CREATIONS 


319 


see their own house; but it seemed silent and dark as they 
had left it, and they turned sadly back and went into 
the church. 

The choir had gathered when Cornelia got back, and 
she slipped into the last vacant seat by the stairs, and was 
glad that it was almost hidden from the view of the con¬ 
gregation. It seemed to her that the anxiety of her heart 
must be written large across her face. 

Louise, still as a mouse all by herself down in a back 
seat by the door, watched—and prayed. No one came 
in at the two big doors that she did not see. Maxwell and 
Harry had not come back yet. The cool evening air came 
in at the open window, and blew the little feather in the 
pretty hat Cornelia had made for her. She felt a strand 
of her own hair moving against her cheek. There was 
honeysuckle outside somewhere on somebody’s front porch 
across the street or in the little park near by. The breath 
of it was very sweet, but Louise thought she never as 
long as she lived, even if that were a great many years, 
would smell the breath of honeysuckle without thinking 
of this night. And yet the sounds outside were just like 
the sounds on any other Sunday night; the music and the 
lights in the church were the same; the people looked just 
as if nothing were the matter, and Carey had not come! 
What a queer world it was, everything going on just the 
same, even when one family was crushed to earth 
with fear! 

Automobiles flew by the church; now and then one 
stopped. Louise wished she were tall so she could look 


320 


RE-CREATIONS 


out and see whether they had come. Her little heart was 
beating wildly; but there was a serene, peaceful expression 
on her face. She had resolved to trust God, and she knew 
He was going to do something about it somehow. But 
people kept coming in at the door, and hope would 
dim again. 

The service had begun, and in the silence of the open¬ 
ing prayer the two sisters lifted their hearts in tragic peti¬ 
tion. Their spirits seemed to cling to each word and make 
it linger; their souls entered into the song that followed, 
and sang as if their earnest singing would hold off the 
moment for a little longer. 

Cornelia was glad that her seat was so placed that she 
could not see all the choir. She had given a swift survey 
as she sat down, and she knew her brother was not there. 
Now she sat in heaviness of heart, and tried to fathom it 
all!—tried to think what to do next, what to tell her father, 
whether to tell her father at all; tried not to think of 
the letter she would not write the next day to her mother; 
tried just to hold her spirit steady, steady, trusting, not 
hoping, but trusting, right through the prayer, the song, 
the Bible reading. Now and again a frightful thought 
of danger shot through her heart, and a wonder about 
Maxwell. Lamb’s Tavern—what kind of a place was it? 
The very name “Tavern” sounded questionable. And 
Harry! He ought not to have gone, of course, but she 
had not seen him in time to stop him. Brave, dear Harry! 
A man already. And yet he knew he ought not to go! 
But the man in him had to. She understood. 


RE-CREATIONS 




Suddenly she found a tear stealing slowly down her 
cheek, and she sat up very straight, and casually slid a 
finger up to its source, and stopped it. This must not 
happen again. No one must know her trouble. How won¬ 
derful it was that she should have been able to get this little 
sheltered spot, the only spot in the whole choir loft that 
was absolutely out of sight, by the winding stairs down 
into the choir room behind! She would not be seen until 
she had to stand up with the rest of the choir to sing; and 
then she would step in behind the rest, and be out of sight 
again. She wondered what Grace would do about Carey ’z 
solo, and decided that she had probably asked some one 
else to take it. She cast a quick glance over the group of 
tenors, but she did not know any of them well enough to 
be sure whether there was a soloist present. She had been 
at only two rehearsals so far, and was not acquainted with 
them all yet. She was not afraid that the music would 
go wrong, for she had great faith that Grace at the organ 
would easily be able to fill the vacancy in some way; she 
only felt the deep mortification that Carey the first time 
he had been asked to sing in this notably conspicuous way 
had failed her, and for such a reason! It was terrible* 
and it was perplexing. It was not like Carey to be fooled 
by a note. And didn’t Carey know that little Dodd boy? 
If he had been going to the Dodd house at all, wouldn’t 
he know the brother? Why didn’t he see through the 
trick? He was quick as a flash. He was not dumb and 
slow like some people. 

The contralto solo had begun. It was a sweet and 
21 


RE-CREATIONS 


3 to 

tender thing, with low, deep tones like a ’cello; but they 
beat upon the tired girl’s heart, and threatened to break 
down her studied composure. A hymn followed, and the 
reading of another Bible selection. ‘‘All we like sheep 
have gone astray; we have turned every one to his own 
way; and the Lord hath laid on him the iniquity of us all.” 
She felt as if all the iniquity of her brother Carey were 
laid upon her heart, and a dim wonder came to her whether 
the Lord was bearing a like burden for her. She had 
never felt much sense of personal sin herself before. The 
thought lingered through the pain, and wound in and out 
through her tired brain during the offertory and prayer 
that followed; and at last came the anthem. The opening 
chords were sounding. The choir was rising. She stum¬ 
bled to her feet, and for the first time saw the audience 
before her, this congregation that was to have heard Carey* 
sing his tenor solo. It was a goodly audience, for Mr. 
Kendall touched the popular heart, and drew people out at 
night as well as in the morning; and she felt anew the pang 
of disappointment. She glanced swiftly over the lifted 
faces and saw little Louise, white and shrinking, sitting by 
herself, and saw beyond her, at the open door, two figures 
just entering, Maxwell and Harry, looking a trifle white 
and hurried, and glancing anxiously around the audience. 
Then she opened her mouth and tried to sing, to do her little 
part among the sopranos in the chorus; but no sound 
seemed to come. All she could think of now was, “Carey 
is not here!” beating over and over like a refrain in her 
brain: “Carey has not come! Carey has not come!” 


CHAPTER XXVIII 


Carey had lost no time when he read that note of 
appeal signed “Grace.” It was not his way to wait for 
a hat in any emergency, but he did not leave sagacity behind 
him when he swung himself into the already moving 
car that had come for him. He could think on the way, 
and he was taking no chances. 

It was quite natural that Grace Kendall should have 
gone to see a sick pupil after Sunday school. It was not 
natural that any pupil would have lived out as far as 
Lamb’s Tavern; yet there were a hundred and one ways 
she might have gone there against her plans. He could 
question the messenger on the way and lose no time about 
it, nor excite the curiosity of his family. That had per¬ 
haps been one of Carey’s greatest cares all his life, amount¬ 
ing sometimes almost to a vice, to keep his family from 
finding out anything little or great connected with him¬ 
self or anybody else. He had a code, and by that code 
all things not immediately concerning people were “none 
of their business.” His natural caution now caused him 
to get away from his house at once and excite no suspicion 
of danger. Grace had written to him rather than to her 
father with evident intention,—if she had written at 
all, a question he had at once recognized, but not as yet 
settled,—and it was easy to guess that she did not wish 



RE-CREATIONS 


m 

to worry her parents unnecessarily. He was inclined to 
be greatly elated that she had chosen him for her helper 
rather than some older acquaintance, and this was prob¬ 
ably the moving factor in prompting him to act at once. 

He would not have been the boy he was if he had not 
seen all these points at the first flash. The only thing he 
did not see and would not recognize was any danger to 
himself. He had always felt he could ably take care of 
himself, and he intended to do so now. Moreover, he 
expected and intended to return in time to go to that Chris¬ 
tian Endeavor meeting. 

He glanced at his watch as he dropped into the seat, 
and immediately sat forward, and prepared to investi¬ 
gate the situation. But the boy who had brought the 
note, and who had seemingly scuttled around to get into 
the front seat from the other side of the car, had disap¬ 
peared, and a glance backward at the rapidly disappear¬ 
ing landscape gave no hint of his whereabouts. That 
was strange. He had evidently intended to go along. He 
had said, “Come on!” and hurried toward the car. Who 
was that kid, anyway ? Where had he seen him ? 

For what had been a revealing fact to Cornelia, and 
would have greatly changed the view of things, was en¬ 
tirely unknown to Carey. Clytie Dodd kept her family 
in the background as much as possible, and to that end 
met her “gentlemen friends” in parks, or at soda-foun¬ 
tains, or by the wayside casually. She had a regular 
arrangement with a certain corner drug-store whereby tele¬ 
phone messages would reach her and bring her to th# 


RE-CREATIONS 


325 


’phone whenever she was at home; but her friends seldom 
came to her house, and never met her family. She had a 
hard-working, sensible father, an over-worked, fretful, 
tempestuous mother, and a swarm of little wild, outrageous 
brothers and sisters, none of whom approved of her high 
social aspirations. She found it healthier in every way 
to keep her domestic and social lives utterly apart; con¬ 
sequently Carey had never seen Sam Dodd, or his eyes 
might have instantly been opened. Sam was very useful to 
his sister on occasion when well primed with one of her 
hard-earned quarters, and could, if there were special in¬ 
ducement, even exercise a bit of detective ability. Sam 
knew how to disappear off the face of the earth, and he 
had done it thoroughly this time. 

Carey leaned forward, and questioned the driver. 

“What’s the matter? Anything serious?” 

But the driver sat unmoved, staring ahead and mak¬ 
ing his car go slamming along, regardless of ruts or bumps f 
at a tremendous rate of speed. Carey did not object to 
the speed. He wanted to get back. He tried again, 
touching the man on the shoulder and shouting his ques¬ 
tion. The man turned after a second nudge, and stared 
resentfully, but appeared to be deaf. 

Carey shouted a third time, and then the man gave evi¬ 
dence of being also dumb; but after a fourth attempt he 
gave forth the brief word: “I dunno. Lady jes’ hired me.” 

The man did not look so stupid as he sounded, and 
Carey made several attempts to get further information, 
even to ask for a description of the lady who had sent 


RE-CREATIONS 


him; but he answered either, “I dunno,” or, “Yep, I 
gezzo”; and Carey finally gave up. He dived into his 
pocket for the note once more, having a desire to study 
the handwriting of the young woman for whom he had 
newly acquired an admiration. It didn’t seem real that 
expedition. As he thought of it, it didn't seem like that 
quiet, modest girl to send for a comparative stranger to 
help her in distress. It seemed more like Clyde. But 
that note had not been Clyde's writing. Clyde affected a 
large, round, vertical hand like a young school-child, 
crude and unfinished. This letter had been delicately writ¬ 
ten by a finished hand on thick cream stationery. Where 
was that note? He was sure he had put it in his pocket. 

But a search of every pocket revealed nothing, and he 
sat back, and tried to think the thing out, tried to imagine 
w r hat possible situation had brought Grace Kendall where 
she would send for him to help her. Stay! Was it Grace 
Kendall ? Grace, Grace, was there any other Grace among 
his circle of friends ? No, no one that claimed sufficient ac¬ 
quaintance to write a note like that. It certainly was queer. 
But they were out in the open country now, and speeding. 
The farmhouses were few and far apart. It was grow¬ 
ing dusky; Carey could just see the hands of his watch, 
and he was getting nervous. Once he almost thought of 
shaking the driver and insisting on his turning around, 
for it had come over him that he should have left word 
with Miss Kendall's people or called up before he left 
home. It wasn't his way at all to do such a thing; but, 
still, with a girl like that—and, if anything serious was 


RE-CREATIONS 


327 


the matter, her father might not like it that he had taken 
it upon himself. As the car sped on through the radiant 
dusk, it seemed more and more strange that Grace Kendall 
after the afternoon service should have come away out 
here to visit a sick Sunday-school scholar, and his misgiv¬ 
ings grew. Then suddenly at a cross-road just ahead an 
automobile appeared, standing by the roadside just at the 
crossings with no lights on. It seemed strange, no lights 
at that time of night. If it was an accident, they would 
have the lights on. It was still three-quarters of a mile 
to the Tavern. Perhaps some one had broken down and 
gone on for help. No, there was a man standing in the 
road, looking toward them. He was holding up his hand, 
and the driver was slowing down. Carey frowned. He 
had no time to waste. “We can’t stop to help them now,” 
he shouted. “Tell them we’ll come back in a few minutes, 
and bring some one to fix them up. I’ve got to get back 
right away. I’ve gotta date.” 

But the man paid no more heed to him than if he had 
been a June bug, and the car stopped at the cross-roads. 

Carey leaned out, and shouted: “What’s the matter? 
I haven’t time to stop now. We’ll send help back to you”; 
but the driver turned and motioned him to get out. 

“She’s in there. The lady’s in that car,” he said. “Bet¬ 
ter get out here. I ain’t goin’ no further, anyhow. I’m 
going home by the cross-roads. They’ll get you back,” 
motioning toward the other car. 

Carey, astonished, hardly knowing what to think, 
sprang out to investigate; and the driver threw in his 


338 


RE-CREATIONS 


dutch, and was off down the cross-road at once. Carey 
took a step toward the darkened car, calling, “Miss 
Kendall”; and a man with a cap drawn down over his eyes 
stepped out of the shadow, and threw open the car door. 

“Just step inside. You’ll find the lady in the back 
seat,” he said in a gruff voice that yet sounded vaguely 
familiar. Carey could dimly see a white face leaning 
against the curtain. He came near anxiously, and peered 
in, with one foot on the running-board. 

“Is that you, Grace?” he said gently, not knowing 
he was using that intimate name unbidden. She must 
have been hurt. And who was this man? 

“Get in; get in; we’ve got to get her back,” said the 
man gruffly, giving Carey an unexpected shove that pre¬ 
cipitated him to the car floor beside the lady. Before he 
recovered his balance the car door was slammed shut, and 
suddenly from all sides came peals of racuous laughter. 
Surrounding the car, swarming into it, came the laughers. 
In the midst of his bewilderment the car started. 

“Well, I guess anyhow we put one over on you this 
time, Kay Copley!” 

It was the clarion voice of Clytie Amabel Dodd that 
sounded high and mocking above the chug of the motor 
as the struggling, laughing company untangled themselves 
from one another and settled into their seats precipitately 
with the jerk of starting. Carey found himself drawn 
suddenly and forcibly to the back seat between two girls, 
one of them being the amiable Clytie. 


RE-CREATIONS 


3£9 


In sudden rage he drew himself up again, and faced 
the girl in the dim light. 

“Let me out of here!” he demanded. “Lm on my way 
to help some one who’s in trouble, and I’m in a hurry to 
get back.” 

He reached out to the door, and unfastened it, at¬ 
tempting to climb over Clytie’s feet, which were an 
intentional barricade. 

“Aw, set down, you big simp, you,” yelled Clytie, giv¬ 
ing him a shove back with a muscular young arm. “This 
ain’t no Sunday-school crowd, you bet yer life; an’ the 
girl that wrote that note is setting right ’long-side of you 
over there. My sister Grace! Grace Dodd. Make you 
acquainted. Now set down, and see if you can ac’ like a 
little man. We’re off for the best feed ever and a big 
night. Comb your hair, and keep your shirt on, and get 
a hustle on that grouch. We’re going to have the time 
of our life, and you’re going along.” 

Carey was still, stern and still. The coarse words of 
the girl tore their way through his newly awakened soul, 
and made him sick. The thought that he had ever deliber¬ 
ately, of his own accord, gone anywhere, in the company 
of this girl was like gall and wormwood. Shame passed 
over him, and bathed him in a cleansing flood for a 
moment; and, as he felt its waters at their height over 
his head, he seemed to see the face of Grace Kendall, fine 
and sweet and far away, lost to him forever. Then a 
flash of memory brought her look as she had thanked him 
for taking the solo that night, and said she knew he 


330 


RE-CREATIONS 


would make a success of it; and his soul rose in rebellion. 
He would keep faith with her. In spite of all of them 
he would get back. 

He lifted his head, and called commandingly: “Stop 
this car! I’ve got to get back to the city. I’ve got 
an engagement.” 

The answer was a loud jeer of laughter. 

“Aw! Yeah! We know whatcher engagement is, 
and you ain’t going to no Chrisshun ’deavor t’night. Pretty 
little Gracie ’ll have to keep on lookin’ fer you, but she 
won’t see you t’night.” 

Carey was very angry. He thought he knew now how 
men felt that wanted to kill some one. Clytie was a girl, 
and he couldn’t strike her; but she had exceeded all a 
woman’s privileges. He gripped her arm roughly, and 
pushed her back into the seat, threw himself between the 
two unidentified ones in the middle seat, and projected his 
body upon the man who was driving, seizing the wheel 
and attempting to turn the car around. The driver 
was taken unexpectedly, and the car almost ran into the 
fence, one wheel lurching down into the ditch. The girls 
set up a horrible screaming. The car was stopped just 
in time, and a terrific fight began in the front seat. 

“Now, just for this, Carey Copley, we’ll get you dead 
drunk and take you back to your old Chrisshun ’deavor. 
That’s what we were going to do, anyway; only we weren’t 
going to tell you beforehand—get you dead drunk and 
take you back to your little baby-faced, yella-haired Gracie- 


RE-CREATIONS 


331 


girl. Then I guess she’d have anything more to do with 
you? I guess anyhow not!” 

Clyde’s voice rang out loud and clear above the din, 
followed by the crash of glass as somebody smashed 
against the wind-shield. This was what Maxwell heard 
as he stole noiselessly upon the dark car, running down 
a slight grade with his engine shut off. He stopped his 
car a rod away, and dropped silently to the ground while 
Harry, like a smaller shadow, dropped from the back, 
stole around the other side of the car, and hid in the shad¬ 
ows next the fence. 

“What was that?’ 1 ’ warned Clytie suddenly. “Grace, 
didn’t you hear something? Say, boys, we oughtta be 
gettin’ on. Somebody ’ll be onto our taking this car, and 
come after us; then it’ll be good-night for us. Don’t 
fool with that kid any longer. Give him a knockout, and 
stow him down in the bottom of the car. We can bring 
him to when we get to a safe place. Cheese it, there! 
Cheese it!” 

Harry, watching alertly, saw Maxwell spring suddenly 
on the other side; and, stealing close with the velvet tread 
of a cat, he sprang to the running-board on his side, and, 
jumping, flung his arms tightly about the neck of the 
front-seat man next him, hanging back with his fingers 
locked around the fellow’s throat, and dragging his whole 
lusty young weight to the ground. There was nothing 
for his man to do but follow, struggling, spluttering, and 
trying to grasp something, till he sprawled at length upon 


332 


RE-CREATIONS 


the grass, unable, for the moment, in his bewilderment 
to determine just what had hold of him. 

Maxwell on his side had gripped the driver, and pulled 
him out, not altogether sure but it might be Carey, but 
knowing that the best he could do was to get some one 
before the car started again. The unexpectedness of the 
attack from the outside wrought confusion and panic in 
the car, and gave Maxwell a moment’s vantage. 

Carey was meanwhile fighting blindly like a wild man, 
his special antagonist being the man in the middle seat; 
and when he found himself suddenly relieved of the two 
in the front seat, he seemed to gain an almost superhuman 
power for the instant. Dragging and pushing, he suc¬ 
ceeded in throwing his man out of the car upon the ground. 
Then before anyone knew what was happening, and amid 
the frightened screams of the three girls, Carey climbed 
over into the front seat, and, not knowing that a friend 
was at hand, threw in the clutch and started the car, whirl¬ 
ing it recklessly round in the road, almost upsetting it, 
and shot away up the road toward the city at a terrible 
rate of speed, leaving Maxwell with three men on his hands 
and no knowledge of Harry’s presence. 

The man that Carey had thrown out of the car lay 
crumpled in a heap, unconscious. He had broken his 
ankle, and would make no trouble for a while. Maxwell 
was not even conscious of his presence as he grappled with 
the driver, and finally succeeded in getting him down with 
hands pinioned and his knee on the man’s chest. Maxwell 
was an expert wrestler, and knew all the tricks, which 


RE-CREATIONS 


333 


was more than could be said of the boy who had been 
driving the car; but Maxwell was by no means in training, 
and he found himself badly winded and bruised. Lifting 
his head there in the darkness and wondering what he 
was to do with his man now he had him down, he dis¬ 
covered the silent form in the road but a step away. 
Startled, he looked about; and suddenly a gruff young 
voice came pluckily to him from across the ditch: 

“All right, Max; I can hold this man awhile now. 
I’ve got the muzzle on the back of his neck.” 

The form on the bank beside Harry suddenly ceased 
to struggle, and lay grimly still. Maxwell, astonished, 
but quick to take Harry’s lead, called back: “All right, 
sir. You haven’t got an extra rope about you, have 
you, man?” 

“Use yer necktie, Max,” called back the boy noncha¬ 
lantly. That’s what I’m doing. There’s good strong 
straps under the seat in the car to make it sure. Saw 
’em last week when you and I were fixing the car.” 

And actually Harry, with the cold butt of his old jack¬ 
knife realistically placed at the base of his captive’s brain, 
was tying his man’s hands behind him with his best blue 
silk necktie that Cornelia had given him the day before. 
It seemed a terrible waste to him; but his handkerchief , 
was in the other side-pocket, and he didn’t dare risk taking 
that knife in the other hand to get at it. 

It happened that the boy that Harry had attacked in 
the dark was a visitor to the city, very young and very 
green indeed; and the others had promised to show him 


S34 


EE-CREATIONS 


a gcx)d time and teach him what life in the city meant. He 
was horribly frightened, and already shaking like a leaf 
with a vision of jail and the confusion of his honorable 
family back in the country. The cold steel on the back of 
his neck subdued him instantly and fully. He had no 
idea that his captor was but a slip of a boy. The dark¬ 
ness had come down completely there in the shadow of 
a grove of maples, and a cricket rasping out a sudden note 
in the ditch below made him jump in terror. Harry, with 
immense scorn for the “big boob” who allowed himself 
to be tied so easily, drew the knots fast and hard, won¬ 
dering meanwhile whether Cornie could iron out the 
necktie again. Then, feeling a little easier about moving, 
he changed hands, and got possession of his Sunday hand¬ 
kerchief, and proceeded to tie the young fellow’s ankles 
together. After which he slid casually down the bank, 
hustled over to the car, got the straps, and brought them 
to Maxwell, who was having his hands full trying to tis 
the driver’s wrists with his big white handkerchief. 

Gravely they made the fellow fast, searched him for 
any possible weapons and put him into the back seat of 
the car. 

Next they picked up the quiet fellow on the ground, 
made his hands fast, and put him on the floor of the car. 

“It’s no use trying to bring him to here,” advised Harry 
gruffly: “No water; and, besides, we can’t waste the time. 
He’s just knocked out, I guess, anyhow, like they do 
in football.” 

But, when they went for Harry’s man, they found 


RE-CREATIONS 


335 


no trace of him. Somehow he had managed to roll down 
the bank into the ditch and hid himself, or perhaps he 
had worked off his fetters and run away. 

“Aw, gee!” said Harry, reluctantly turning toward 
the car. “I s’pose we gotta let him go; but that was my 
best new necktie.” 

“Oh, that’s all right,” said Maxwell almost relieved. 
“There’s more neckties where that came from, and I think 
we better get this man back to a doctor.” 

Back they drove like lightning to the city, with Harry 
keeping watch over the prisoners, one sullen and one silent, 
and took them straight to the station-house with a promise 
to return with more details in a short time. Then they 
drove rapidly to the church, Maxwell anxious to be 
sure that Carey was all right, and bent on relieving 
Cornelia’s mind. 

They entered the church just as the choir, stood up 
for the anthem, and Cornelia’s white, anxious face looked 
out at the end of the top row of sopranos. Maxwell’s eye$ 
sought hers a second, then searched rapidly through the 
lines of tenor and bass, but Carey had not come yet 
Where was Carey? 


CHAPTER XXIX 



It was very still in the church as the opening chords 
of the anthem were struck. The anthems were always 
appreciated by the congregation. Since Grace Kendall 
had been organist and choir master there was always 
something new and pleasing, and no one knew beforehand 
just who might be going to sing a solo that day. Some¬ 
times Grace Kendall herself sang, although but rarely. 
People loved to hear her sing. Her voice was sweet and well 
cultivated, and she seemed to have the power of getting 
her words across to one’s soul which few others possessed. 

Cornelia, as her lips formed the words of the opening 
chorus, wondered idly, almost apathetically, whether Grace 
would take the tenor solo this time. She could, of course; 
but Cornelia dreaded it like a blow that was coming 
swiftly to her. It seemed the knell of her brother’s self- 
respect. He had failed her right at the start, and of course 
no one would ever ask him to sing again; and equally of 
course he would be ashamed, and never want to go to 
that church again. Her heart was so heavy that she had 
no sense of the triumph and beauty of the chorus as it 
burst forth in the fresh young voices about her, voices 
that were not heavy like her own with a sense of agony 
and defeat. 

“I am Alpha and Omega, the beginning and the end¬ 
ing, saith the Lord.” 

It was, of course, a big thing for an amateur volunteer 
336 


RE-CREATIONS 


337 


dioir to attempt, but in its way it was well done. Grace 
Kendall seemed to have a natural feeling for expression, 
and she had developed a wonderful talent for bringing 
out some voices and suppressing others. Moreover, she 
trained for weeks on a composition before she was willing 
to produce it. This particular one had been in waiting 
some time until a tenor soloist fit for the part should be 
available. Carey had seemed to fit right in. Grace had 
told Cornelia this the night before, which made the hu¬ 
miliation all the harder now. Cornelia’s voice stopped 
entirely on “the beginning,” and never got to “the ending” 
at all. Something seemed to shut right up in her throat 
and make sound impossible. She wished she could sink 
down through the floor, and hide away out of sight some¬ 
where. Of course the audience did not know that her 
brother was to have sung in this particular anthem; but 
all the choir knew it, and they must be wondering. Surely 
they had noticed his absence. She was thankful that her 
seat kept her a trifle apart from the rest, and that she was 
a comparative stranger, so that no one would be likely 
to ask w r here he was. If she could only get through this 
anthem somehow, making her lips move till the end, and 
sit down! The church seemed stifling. The breath of 
the roses about the pulpit came sickeningly sweet. 

It was almost time for the solo. Another page, an¬ 
other line! At least she would not look around. If any¬ 
body noticed her, he should think she knew all about what 
was going to happen next. They would perhaps think that 
Carey had been called away—as, indeed, he had; sh© 
22 


338 


RE-CREATIONS 


caught at the words “called away”; that was what she 
would have to say when they asked her after service, 
called away suddenly. Oh! And such a calling! Would 
Grace ever speak to him again? Would they be able to 
keep it from her that that detestable Clytie had been at 
the bottom of it all? It wouldn’t be so bad if Grace had 
never met her. Oh, why had Cornelia been so crazy as 
to invite them together? Now! Now! Another note! 

Into the silence of the climax of the chorus there came 
a clear, sweet tenor voice, just behind Cornelia, so close 
it startled her, and almost made her lose her self-control, 
so sweet and resonant and full of feeling that at first she 
hardly recognized that she had ever heard it before. 

“Holy, holy, holy, Lord God of Hosts!” 

“Carey!” 

Her trembling senses took it in with thrill after thrill 
of wonder and delight. It was really Carey, her brother, 
singing like that! Carey, standing on the top step of the 
little stairway winding up from the choir room, close 
beside the organ. Carey with his hair rumpled wildly, his 
coat-sleeve half ripped out, a tear in the knee of his trou¬ 
sers, a white face with long black streaks across it, a cut on 
his chin, and his eyes blue-black with the intensity of the 
moment, but a smile like a cherub’s on his lips. He was 
singing as he had never sung before, as no one knew he 
could sing, as he had not thought he could sing himself, 
singing as one who had come “out of great tribulation,” 
as the choir had just simg a moment before, a triumphant, 
tender, marvellous strain. 


RE-CREATIONS 


“Gee!” breathed Harry back by the door, in awe, under 
his breath, and the soul of Maxwell was lifted and thrilled 
by the song. Little Louise in her seat all alone gripped 
her small hands in ecstasy, and smiled till the tears came; 
and the father, who had found his friend too ill for his 
wife to leave him, and had stolen into church late by the 
side door and sat down under the gallery, bowed his head 
and prayed, his heart filled with one longing, that the 
boy’s mother could have heard him. 

Into Cornelias heart there flooded a tide of strength 
and joy surpassing anything she had ever known in pride 
of herself. Her brother, her brother was singing like that 1 
He had overcome all obstacles, whatever they might have 
been, and got there in time! He was there! He had not 
failed! He was singing like a great singer. 

Out at the curbstone beside the church sat huddled in 
a “borrowed” car, with a broken wind-shield, borrowed 
without the knowledge of the owner, three girls, fright¬ 
ened, furious, and overwhelmed with wonder. All during 
that stormy drive to the city they had screamed and rea¬ 
soned and pommelled their captor in vain. He had paid no 
more heed to their furor than if they had been three gad¬ 
flies sitting behind him. When one of them tried to climb 
into the front seat beside him, he swept her back with 
one blind motion and a threat to throw them all out into 
the road if they didn’t stop. They had never seen him 
like this. They subsided, and he had sat silent, immovable, 
driving like Jehu, until with a jerk he suddenly brought 
up at the church, and sprang out, vanishing into the dark- 


340 


RE-CREATIONS 


ness. And now this voice, this wonderful voice, piercing 
out into the night like the searching of God. 

“Holy, holy, holy!” They listened awesomely. This 
was not the young man they knew, with whom they had 
rollicked and feasted and revelled. This was a new man. 
And this—this that he was voicing made them afraid. 
Holy, holy! It was a word that they hated. It seemed to 
search into their ways from the beginning. It made them 
aware of their coarseness and their vulgarity. It brought 
to their minds things that made their cheeks burn, and 
made them think of their mothers and retribution. It 
reminded them of the borrowed car, and the fact that they 
;were alone in it, and that even now some one might be 
out in search of it. 

“Holy, holy!” sang the voice, “Lord God of Hosts!” 
and, as if a searchlight from heaven had been turned upon 
their silly, weak young faces, they trembled, and one by 
one clambered out into the shadow silently, and slunk 
away on their little clinking high heels, hurriedly, almost 
stumbling. They were running away from that voice and 
from that word, “Holy, holy, holy!” They were gone, 
and the borrowed car stood there alone. Stood there 
when the people filed out from the church, still talking 
about the wonderful new tenor that “Miss Grace” had 
found; stood there when the janitor locked the door and 
turned out the lights and went home. Stood there all night 
silently, with a hovering watchman in the shadows wait¬ 
ing for some one to come; stood there till morning, when 
it was reported and taken back to its owner with a hand- 


RE-CREATIONS 


341 


kerchief and a cigarette and a package of chewing gum 
on its floor to help along the evidence against the two 
young prisoners who had been brought to the station- 
house the night before. 

But the young man who had driven the car from the 
cross-roads, and who had held on to his glorious tenor 
through the closing chorus, rising like a touch of glory 
over the whole body of singers until the final note had died 
away exquisitely, had suddenly crumpled into a limp heap 
and slid down upon the stairs. 

Some one slipped around from among the basses, and 
lifted him up; two tenors came to his assistance, and bore 
him to the choir room; and Grace with anxious face slipped 
from the organ-bench and followed as the sermon text was 
announced; and no one was the wiser. Cornelia in her 
secluded seat with her singing heart knew nothing of 
the commotion. 

A doctor was summoned from the congregation and 
discovered a dislocated shoulder, a broken finger, and a bad 
cut on the leg which had been bleeding profusely. Carey’s 
shoe was soaked with blood. Carey, coming to, was much 
mortified over his collapse, looked up nerviiy, and explained 
that he had had a slight accident, but would be all right 
in a minute. He didn’t know what made him go off like 
that. Then he promptly went off again. 

Maxwell and Harry from their vantage of the door¬ 
way had seen the sudden disappearance, and hurried 
round to the choir room. Now Maxwell explained briefly 
that Carey had '‘had a little trouble with a couple of roughs 


542 


RE-CREATIONS 


who were trying to get away with somebody's car," and 
must have been rather shaken up by the time he got to 
the church. 

“He sang wonderfully," said Grace in a low tone full 
of feeling; “I don’t believe I ever heard that solo done 
better even by a professional." 

“It certainly was great!" said Maxwell, and Harry 
slid to the outer door, and stood in the darkness, blinking 
with pride and muttering happily. “Aw, gee!" 

Carey came to again presently, and insisted on going 
back for the last hymn and the response after the closing 
prayer. Carey was a plucky one; and, though he was in 
pain, and looked white around his mouth, he slid into his 
seat up by the organ, and did his part with the rest. His 
hair had been combed and his face washed in the mean¬ 
time, and Grace had found a thread and needle and put a 
few stitches in the torn garments, so that the damage was 
not apparent. Carey received the eager congratulations 
of the entire choir as they filed past him at the close of 
service. It was a proud moment for Cornelia, standing 
in her little niche at the head of the stairs, unable to get 
out till the crowd had passed. Every one stopped to tell 
her how proud she ought to be of her brother; and her 
cheeks were quite rosy and her eyes starry when she finally 
slipped away into the choir room to find Maxwell waiting 
for her, a tender solicitude in his face. 

“He’s all right," he hastened to explain. “Just a little 
faint from the loss of blood, but he certainly was plucky 
to sing that solo with his shoulder out of place. It must 


RE-CREATIONS 


S43 


have taken a lot of nerve. We’ve got him fixed up, and 
he’ll soon be all right.” 

Cornelia’s face went white in surprise. 

“Was he hurt?” she asked. “Oh, I didn’t think there 
would be danger—not of that kind! It was so kind of 
you to go after him! It is probably all due to you that 
he got here at all.” She gave him a look which was worth 
a reward, but he shook his head, smiling wistfully. 

“No, I can’t claim anything like that,” he said. “Carey 
didn’t even know I was there, doesn’t know it yet, in fact. 
He fought the whole thing out for himself, and took their 
car, and ran away. It’s that nervy little youngest brother 
of yours that’s the brave one. If it hadn’t been for Harry, 
I should have been a mere onlooker.” 

“Well, I rather guess not!” drawled Harry, appearing 
suddenly from nobody knew where, with Louise stand¬ 
ing excitedly behind him. “You just oughtta a seen 
Max fight! He certainly did give that driver guy his 
money’s worth.” 

“Oh!” said Cornelia. “Let’s get home quick, and hear 
all about it. Where is Carey?” 

Carey and Grace were coming down the steps to¬ 
gether, and his sister came toward him eagerly. 

“O Carey, you’re hurt!” she said tenderly. “I hadn’t 
thought—” she stopped suddenly with a half look at Grace. 

Carey grinned. 

“You needn’t mind her,” he said sheepishly. “She 
knows all about it. I ’fessed up!” and he gave Grace a 
look of understanding that was answered in full kind. 


844 


RE-CREATIONS 


“Wasn’t his singing wonderful?” said Grace in an 
earnest voice with a great light in her eyes. “I kept pray¬ 
ing and feeling sure he would come. And just at the last 
minute, when I’d almost made up my mind I must sing it 
myself, he came. I just had time to hand him the music 
before it was time for him to begin. It was simply 
great of him to sing it like that when he was suffering, 
and with only that second to prepare himself.” 

Carey smiled, but a twinge of pain made the smile a 
ghastly grin, and they hurried him into the car and home, 
taking Grace Kendall with them for just a few minutes’ 
talk, Maxwell promising to take her home soon. They 
established Carey on the big couch with cushions under 
his shoulder; and then Harry could stand it no longer, and 
came out with the story, which he had already told in full 
detail to Louise outside the choir-room door, giving a 
full account of Maxwell’s part in the fight. It was the 
first that Carey knew of their presence at the cross-roads, 
and there was much to tell, and many questions to answer 
on all sides. Harry had the floor with entire attention, 
much to his delight, while he told every detail of the cap¬ 
ture of the two and his own tying of the man who got 
away. Maxwell had his share of honor and praise, and 
in turn told how brave Harry had been, fooling his man 
with his jack-knife for a revolver. Everybody was excited 
and everybody was talking at once. Nobody noticed that 
twice Carey called Grace by her first name; and once 
Maxwell said “Cornelia,” and then talked fast to hide his 
embarrassment. The father came in, and sat quietly listen- 


RE-CREATIONS 


345 


ing in the corner, his face filled with pride, gathering the 
story bit by bit from the broken sentences of the different 
witnesses, until finally Harry said. 

“Say, Kay, whaddidya do with that stolen car ?” 

Carey grinned from his pillows. 

“Left her on the road somewhere in front of the church, 
with the three girls in the back seat.” 

“Good night!” Harry jumped up importantly. “Kay, 
do you know that car was stolen? I heard ’em say so. 
They called it ‘borrowed,’ but that means they stole it. 
You might get arrested.” 

“I should worry!” shrugged Carey, making a wry face 
at the pain his move had cost him. “I’m not in it any 
more, am I?” 

“But the girls!” said Harry again. “D’you s’pose 
they’re in it yet ?” 

“Don’t you worry about those girls, Harry,” growled 
Carey, frowning. “They weren’t born yesterday. They’ll 
look out for themselves. And I might as well finish this 
thing up right here and now, and own up that I’ve been 
a big fool to ever have anything to do with girls like that; 
and I’m glad my sister went to work and invited one of 
’em here to show me what a fool I had been. I don’t mind 
telling you that I’m going to try to have more sense in 
future; and say, Nell haven’t you got anything round to 
eat. I certainly am hungry, and I’ve got to work tomor¬ 
row, remember.” 

Everybody laughed, and Cornelia and Louise hurried 
out for the sandwiches and chocolate that had been for- 


346 


RE-CREATIONS 


gotten in the excitement; but the father got up and went 
over to his son with a beaming face. Laying his hand 
on the well shoulder, he said in a proud tone: “I always 
knew you’d come out right, Carey. I always felt you 
had a lot of sense. And then your mother was praying 
for you. I knew you couldn’t miss that. I’m proud of 
you, son!” 

“Thanks dad! Guess I don’t deserve that, but I’ll 
try to in the future.” 

But just here Harry created a diversion by saying im¬ 
portantly : “Max, don’t you think you oughtta call up the 
police station and tell ’em ’bout that car? Somebody else 
might steal it you know.” 

While Maxwell and Harry were busy at the telephone 
and Cornelia and Louise were in the kitchen getting the 
tray ready, Carey and his father and Grace Kendall had 
a little low-toned talk together around the couch. When 
Cornelia entered, and saw their three heads together in 
pleasant converse, her heart gave thanks, and Louise close 
behind her whispered, “Nellie, He did answer,didn’t He?” 

A minute later, as they stood in the living room, 
Cornelia with the big tray in her hands, Harry whirled 
around from the telephone, and shouted. 

“Hurrah for our interior decorator!” They all laughed 
and clapped their hands; and Maxwell hurried to take the 
tray from her, giving her a look that said so much that 
she had to drop her lashes to cover the sudden joy which 
leaped into her face. Just for the instant she forgot the 
crimson and white lady and was completely happy. 


RE-CREATIONS 547 

Maxwell deposited the tray on the sideboard, and took 
her hand. 

'‘Come,” he said gently, “I have something to say 
to you that won’t wait another minute.” 

He drew her out on the new porch, behind the madeira 
vines that Carey had trained for a shelter while more 
permanent vines were growing, and there in the shadow 
they stood, he holding both her hands in a close grasp and 
looking down into her eyes which were just beginning 
to remember. 

“Listen,” he said tenderly. “They have been saying 
all sorts of nice things about you, and now I have one 
more word to add, T love you!’ Do you mind—dearest!” 

He dropped her hands and put his arms softly about 
her, drawing her gently to him as if he almost feared 
to touch one so exquisitely precious. Then Cornelia came 
to life. 

“But the lady!” she cried in distress, putting out her 
hands at arm’s length and holding herself aloof. “Oh, 
it is not like you to do a thing like this!” 

But he continued to draw her close to himself. 

“The lady!” he laughed, “But there is no other lady! 
The lady is really a vampire that tried to suck my blood. 
But she is nothing to me now. Didn’t I tell you yester¬ 
day that she wasn’t even a friend?” 

“Oh,” trembled Cornelia, “I didn’t understand,” and 
she surrendered herself joyously to his arms. 

“Well, I want you to understand. It’s a miserable 
tale to have to tell and I’m ashamed of it, but I want 



348 


RE-CREATIONS 


you to know it all. I meant to tell it yesterday but every* 
thing seemed to be against me. How about riding in 
the park tomorrow afternoon and we’ll thrash it ail out 
and get it done with forever. And meantime, can you 
take me on trust ? For I love you with all the love a man 
can give to a woman, and nobody, not even in imagination, 
ever had the place in my heart that you have taken. Can 
you love me dear heart ?” 

The company in the house missed them after a time 
and trooped out to find them, even Carey getting up from 
his cushions against the protest of Grace, and coming to 
the door. 

“You know I’ve got to go to work tomorrow,” he 
explained smiling, “I can’t afford to baby myself 
any longer.” 

And Cornelia came rosily out from behind the vines 
and went in for the good-nights, her eyes starry with joy. 

As they went up the stairs for the night Louise slipped 
an arm around her sister and whispered happily: 

“Cornie, I don’t believe that red lady is anything at 
all to Mr. Maxwell, do you?” 

Cornelia bent and kissed her sister tenderly and whis¬ 
pered back in a voice that had a ring in it: 

“No, darling, I know she isn’t!” 

Louise falling cosily to sleep while her sister arranged 
her hair for the night said to herself sleepily: 

“I wonder now, how she knows! She didn’t seem so 
sure yesterday. He must have told her about her out on 
the porch.” 


CHAPTER XXX 


Mr. Copley came up the hill with a spring in his step 
one evening in late September. Cornelia, glancing out of 
the window to see whether it was time to put the dishes 
on the table, caught a glimpse of his tall figure, and noticed 
how erectly he walked and how his shoulders had squared 
with the old independent lines she remembered in her child¬ 
hood. It suddenly came over her that father did not 
look so tired and worn as he had when she first came 
home. The lines of worry were not so deeply graven, 
and his figure did not slump any longer. She was con¬ 
scious of a glad little thrill of pride in him. Her father 
was not old. How young, he seemed as he sprinted up 
the hill, almost as Carey might have done! 

Cornelia hurried the dinner to the table, pulled the 
chain of the dining-room light, for the darkness was be¬ 
ginning to creep into the edges of the room, adjusted a 
spray of salvia that had fallen over the side of the 
glass bowl in the centre of the table, and then turned to 
greet her father. She was reaching her hand to strike the 
three silver notes of the dinner-gong that hung on the 
wall by the sideboard; but her hand stopped midway, 
and her eyes were held by the look of utter joy on the face 
of her father. For the first time it struck her that her 
father had once been a young man like Carey. He looked 
young now, and very happy. The spring was still in his 
step, a great light was in his eyes, and a smile that seemed 


JIE-CRE ATION S 


350 

to warm and kindle everything in the room. When he 
spoke just to say the commonplace “Good evening’’ as 
usual, there was something almost hilarious in his voice. 
The children turned to look at him curiously, but he 
seemed not to be aware of it. He sat down quietly enough, 
and began to carve the meat. 

“Beefsteak!” he said with satisfaction. “That looks 
good! I’m hungry tonight.” 

Cornelia reflected that this was the first time she had 
heard him speak of being hungry since she came home. 
She looked curiously at him again, and once more that 
feeling of wonder at the young look in his eyes touched 
her. All through the meal, as their parent talked and 
smiled and told happy little incidents of the day, the chil¬ 
dren wondered; and finally, when the dessert was almost 
finished, Carey looked keenly at him and ventured, “Dad, 
you look as if you’d had a raise in your salary.” 

“Why, I have!” said Mr. Copley, looking at his son 
smilingly. “I’d almost forgotten, meant to tell you the 
first thing. By the way Cornelia, I’d like it if you’d get 
up some kind of a fancy supper tomorrow night. I’d like 
to bring—ah—an old friend home with me. Have chicken 
and ice-cream and things, and some flowers. You’ll know 
what. You might ask the minister’s daughter over, too, 
and Arthur Maxwell. I’d like them to be here. Can you 
fix it up for me, daughter?” 

Cornelia, bewildered, said, “Yes,” of course, and im¬ 
mediately plunged into questions concerning the increase 
©f salary. 


RE-CREATIONS 


851 


When did ir happen? Was it much? Was his posi¬ 
tion higher, and did he have to work any harder? 

“Yes, and no,” he answered calmly, as if a raised salary 
were an every-day happening, and he were quite apart from 
it in his thoughts. “I shall have practically the same work, 
but more responsibility. It’s a kind of responsibility I 
like, however, because I know what ought to be done, 
and they’ve given me helpers enough to have it done 
right. The salary will be a thousand dollars a year more; 
and I suppose, if you should want to go back to college 
by and by and get your diploma, we could manage it.” 

“Indeed, no!” interrupted Cornelia with a rising color 
in her cheeks and an unexplained light in her eyes. “I’m 
quite well enough off without a diploma, and I’m too deep 
in business now to go back and get ready for it. What’s 
a diploma, anyway, but a piece of paper? I never realized 
how trivial, after all, the preparations for a thing are com¬ 
pared to the work itself. Of course it’s all right to get 
ready for things, but I had practically done most of my 
preparation at college, anyway. The rest of the year 
would have been mostly plays and social affairs. The real 
work was finished. And, when I came home, I was no 
more ready to go out into the world and do the big things 
I had dreamed than I was when I entered college. It took 
life to show me what real work meant, and how to develop 
a life-ideal. I truly have got more real good from you 
dear folks here at home than in all my four years’ course 
together. Though I’m not saying anything against that, 
either, for of course that was great. But, father, I’m not 


552 


RE-CREATIONS 


sorry I had to come home. These months here in this dear 
little house with my family have been wonderful, and I 
wouldn’t lose them out of my life for all the college courses 
in existence.” 

She was suddenly interrupted by resounding applause 
from her brothers and sister, and smothered with kisses 
from Louise, who sprang from her seat to throw her 
arms around her neck. 

“We all appreciate what you have done for us and 
your home,” said the father with a light in his eyes. “Your 
mother will tell you how much when she has an opportunity 
to see what you have done here.” 

“But, dad,” interrupted Carey, as he saw his father, 
rise and glance at his watch, “aren’t you going to tell us 
about your raise ? Gee! That’s something that oughtn’t 
to be passed over lightly like a summer rain. How did 
it happen?” 

The father smiled dreamily. 

“Another time. I must hurry now. I have an ap¬ 
pointment I must keep, and I may not be home till late 
tonight. Don’t wait up for me. It was just a promotion; 
that’s all. You won’t forget about the supper tomorrow 
night, Cornelia; and be sure to get plenty of flowers.” 

He hurried out, still with that preoccupied air, leaving 
his children sitting bewildered at the table. 

“Well, I’ll be hanged! What’s dad got up his sleeve, 
I’d like to know? I never saw him act like that, did you, 
Cornie? Just a promotion! That’s all! A mere little 
matter of a thousand more a year! Mere trifle, of 



RE-CEE ATION S 353 

course. Tell us the details another time! I say, Cornie, 
what’s up? ” 

But Cornelia was as puzzled as her brother. 

“Perhaps he’s going to bring home one of the firm,” 
she said. “We must make the house as fine as possible. 
Father doesn’t have many parties, and we’ll make this 
a really great occasion if we can. Strange he wanted 
to have others present, though. I wonder if he really 
ought. Hadn’t I better talk it over with him again Carey ? 
If it’s one of the firm, he would think it very queer 
to have outsiders.” 

“Grace Kendall isn’t an outsider!” blustered up Carey. 
“No, don’t bother dad about it any further. He told you 
what he wanted; ask them, of course. Max didn’t cut 
his eye-teeth last year, either; they both know how to 
keep in the background when it’s necessary. Anything 
I can do tonight before I go to choir rehearsal to help get 
ready for tomorrow?” 

They bustled about happily, getting the house in match¬ 
less order. It was something they had learned to do to¬ 
gether beautifully, each taking a task and rushing it 
through, meanwhile all singing at the top of their lungs 
some of the hymns that had been sung at the last Sun¬ 
day’s service, or a bit of a melody they had sung the 
last time Grace and Maxwell had been over. One voice 
would boom out from the top of the stairs, where 
.'Harry was wiping the dust from the stair railing and 
steps; another from the living room where Carey was 
adjusting a curtain-pole that had fallen; Cornelia’s voice 
23 




354 


RE-CREATIONS 


from the kitchen and pantry in a clear, sweet soprano; 
with Louise’s bird-like alto in the dining-room, where she 
was setting the table for breakfast. They were all especi¬ 
ally happy that evening bomehow. A raise! A thousand 
more a year! Now mother could be given more com¬ 
forts and get well sooner! Now father would not have 
to work so late at night going over miserable account- 
books for people, to earn a little extra money. 

There was a song in Cornelia’s heart as well as on 
her lips. She was remembering the words of her little 
brother and sister in that despairing conference she had 
overheard the first morning after her arrival and compar¬ 
ing them with what had been said to her tonight; and she 
was thinking how thankful she was for her home-coming 
just when it had been, and how she would not have lost 
the last five months out of her life just as it had been 
for worlds. 

With tender thoughts and skilful hands Cornelia pre¬ 
pared the festive dinner the next evening, and arranged 
a profusion of flowers everywhere. A few great luscious 
chrysanthemums, golden and white, lifting their tall globes 
in stately beauty from the gray jar in the living room; 
wild, riotous crimson and yellow and tawny brown, of 
the outdoor smaller variety, overflowing vases and bowls 
in the window-seats and on the stair-landing; a magnifi¬ 
cent spray of brilliant maple leaves that Harry brought 
in from the woods before he went to school gracing the 
stone-chimney above the mantel; and on the dining table, 
glowing and sweet, a bowl of deep red roses, with a few 


RE-CREATIONS 


855 


exquisite white buds among them, the kind she knew her 
father liked because her mother loved them. There was 
nothing ostentatious or showy about the simple arrange¬ 
ment, nothing to make the member of the firm feel that 
the extra thousand dollars would be wasted in show. It 
was all simple, sweet, homelike, and in good taste. 

There was stewed chicken, with little biscuits and cur¬ 
rant jelly, mashed potatoes, and succotash, and for desert 
ice-cream and angel cake. A simple, old-fashioned din¬ 
ner without olives or salads. She knew that would please 
her father best, because it was her mother’s company din¬ 
ner. It was the dinner he and mother had on their wed¬ 
ding-trip, and would always continue to be the best of 
eating to his old-fashioned mind. Doubtless the old-fash¬ 
ioned member of the firm would enjoy it for the same 
reason. So Cornelia hummed a little carol as she went 
about stirring up the thickening for the gravy, stopping 
to fasten Louise’s pretty sprigged challis dress with the 
crimson velvet ribbon trimming, and smiling to herself 
that all was going well. She could hear Carey upstairs 
getting dressed, and Harry was already stumping down¬ 
stairs. Everything was all ready. There were five minutes 
to spare before father had said he would arrive with his 
company. Grace had gone up to smooth her hair after 
being out all the afternoon in the wind, and Maxwell had 
telephoned that he was on the way and would not de¬ 
lay them. 

Then, just as she finished taking up the chicken and 
went into the living room to be sure Carey hadn’t left 



350 


RE-CREATIONS 


his coat and hat lying around on the piano or table, as he 
sometimes did, a taxi drew up at the door. 

At first she thought it was Maxwell’s car, and her 
cheeks grew a shade pinker as she drew back to glance 
out of the window. Then she saw it was her father get¬ 
ting out, and in a panic flew back to shut the kitchen door. 

“They’re coming!” she called softly to the brothers 
and sister chattering at the head of the stairs. 

Pulling down her sleeves and giving a dab to her hair 
as she went, she hurried back to open the door; but before 
she could reach it, it was flung open, and there on the 
threshold of the pretty room stood mother! A new, well, 
strong mother, with great happiness in her sweet eyes and 
the flush of health on her cheeks; and close behind her, 
looking like a roguish boy, was father, his eyes fairly danc¬ 
ing with delight. 

“Dinner ready?” he called. “Here’s our guest, chil¬ 
dren ; and we’re both as hungry as bears! There, children 
what do you think of your mother? Doesn’t she 
look great?” 

He pulled clumsily at the veil over Mrs. Copley’s hat, 
helped her off with her travelling-coat, and set her forth 
in the midst of the room. The children after a gasp of 
\ astonished delight swarmed about her and fairly took 
her breath away; and, when any one of them became 
momentarily detached from her, he took up the time in 
whooping with joy and talking at the top of his lungs. 

At last the greeting subsided, and mother became an 
object of tender solicitation and care again. They placed 


RE-CREATIONS 


357 


her in the biggest chair, and brought her a glass of water, 
looking at her as at something precious that had been un¬ 
wittingly too roughly handled, and might have been 
harmed. In vain did she assure them that she was well 
again. They looked at their father for reassurance. 

“That’s right!” he said. “The doctor says she’s as 
good as new. She might have come home sooner, but 
I told him to keep her till she was thoroughly well; and 
he did. Now, children, it’s up to you to keep her so.” 

They swarmed about her again, and threatened to have 
the greetings all over once more, till Cornelia suddenly 
remembered her place as hostess, and straightened up. 

“But, father, the company! When is he coming? And 
our other guests.” She looked cautiously up the stairs to 
where Grace was discreetly prolonging her hair-dressing, 
and lowered her voice. 

“It’s too bad to have anyone here this first night. 
Mother will not like to have strangers.” 

But mother smiled royally. 

“No, dear, I’m anxious to meet your friends. Father 
has told me all about them. It’s one of the things that 
has helped to make me well, knowing that everything 
was going well with my dear children.” 

“O mother!” said Cornelia with a sudden succumbing 
to the joy of having mother home once more. “O mother!” 
and she knelt beside her mother’s chair, and threw her 
arms again about the little mother whom she had been 
without so long, and never knew till now how she 
had missed. 


858 


RE-CREATIONS 


It was the sound of Maxwell’s car at the door and 
Grace Kendall’s lingering step upon th^ stair that roused 
her once more into action. 

Springing to her feet and glancing from the win¬ 
dow, her face growing rosy with the sight of Maxwell 
coming up the walk, she exclaimed: 

“But father, where is your guest, your friend? I 
thought you were going to bring him with you.” 

Father stepped smiling over to mother’s chair, and 
stood with his hand resting softly on her ripply brown hair. 

“This is my guest—my friend,” he said, tenderly look¬ 
ing down at his partner of the years with a wonderful 
smile, which she answered in kind. “This is the one I 
asked you to prepare for, and I wanted her to meet our 
young friends. I wanted her to get an immediate taste 
of the atmosphere of our home as it now is, as it has been 
during her absence, thanks to you, Cornelia, our blessed 
eldest child.” 

The look he and her mother gave her would have 
been reward enough for any girl for giving up a dozen 
college graduations. But, as if that had not been enough 
for the full and free way in which she had given herself, 
she lifted her eyes; and there beyond them, standing in 
the doorway, stood Maxwell with such a look of worship¬ 
fulness in his face, as he witnessed this girl receiving her 
due from her family, as would have repaid a girl for al¬ 
most any sacrifice. 

Grace Kendall, coming slowly down the stairs into 
the pretty room, watched it all contentedly. Everything 


RE-CREATIONS 359 

was as it should be. The mother was the kind of mother 
she had hoped she would be, and she liked the way Carey 
sat on the arm of her chair with his arm around the back 
protectingly. But suddenly Carey lifted his eyes, and saw 
Grace; and the light of love swept into them. He sprang 
up, and came to meet her eagerly. Taking her hand as 
if he were about to present a princess to an audience, he 
led her to his mother, and said. “Mother, meet the most 
wonderful girl in the world,” and laid Grace Kendall’s 
hand in his mother’s. Mrs. Copley took Grace’s rosy 
face between her two soft white hands, and, reaching up, 
kissed the sweet girl tenderly amid a little hush of silence 
that none of the family realized they were perpetrating, 
until suddenly father awoke to the young girl’s sweet em¬ 
barrassment, and, reaching out a boyish hand to Maxwell, 
drew him to his wife’s chair, and said roguishly, 
“Mother, and now meet the most wonderful man in the 
world!” and the little silence broke into a joyous tumult 
while they all went out to the waiting dinner, and did 
full justice to it with a feeling that that evening was just 
the real beginning of things. 

Late that night, as they were going up to bed, Cornelia, 
lingering for some small preparation for the morning, 
heard Harry say to his younger sister: “Gee! Lou, 
it’s good to have mother home again, isn’t it? But some¬ 
how even she can’t take Cornie’s place, can she ? Didn’t 
Cornie look pretty tonight?” 

“She certainly did,” responded the little sister eagerly; 


S60 


RE-CREATIONS 


“and she certainly is great. We can’t ever spare her again 
can we, Harry?” 

‘‘Well, I guess you mighty well better get ready to,” 
said Harry knowingly. “It looks mighty like to me that 
Max intends us to spare her pretty soon all right, 
all right.” 

“Yes, I suppose so,” sighed Louise, “But then that’s 
nice. It isn’t like somebody you don’t know and love 
already. She’ll always be ours, and he’ll be ours, too. 
Won’t it be nice ? Don’t you hope it’s so, Harry?” 

And Cornelia’s cheeks grew pinker in the kitchen as 
she remembered words and looks that had passed that 
evening, and turned to her task with a happy smile on 
her lips. 


CHAPTER XXXI 


It was just one year from the day when she had taken 
that first journey from West to East and met the pretty 
college girl on her tearful way home to her soul’s trying 
that Mrs. Maxwell came back from her sojourn in Cali¬ 
fornia. The business that had taken her there had pro* 
longed itself, and then unexpectedly the sick sister had 
telegraphed that she was coming out to spend the winter, 
and wanted her to remain; and because the sister had 
seemed to be in very great need of her she had remained. 

But now the sister was gaining rapidly, was fully able 
to be left in the care of a nurse and the many friends 
with whom she was surrounded, and Mrs. Maxwell had 
been summoned home for a great event. 

As the train halted, at the college station, and a bevy 
of girls came chattering round, bidding some comrade 
good-bye, she thought of the day one year ago when she 
had been so interested in one girl, and wondered whether 
her instincts concerning her had been true. She was 
going home to attend that girl’s wedding now! That girl 
so soon to be married to her dear and only son, and since 
that one brief afternoon together she had never seen that 
little girl again. 

Oh, there had been letters, of course, earnest, loving, 
welcoming letters on the part of the mother, glad letters 
expressing joy at her son’s choice and picturing the future 

in glowing colors; shy, sweet, almost apologetic letters on 

361 


S62 


RE-CREATIONS 


the part of the girl, as if she had presumed in accepting 
a love so great as that of this son; and the mother had 
been glad, joyously glad, for was she not the first girl she 
had ever laid eyes upon whose face looked as if she were 
sweet, strong, and wise enough for her beloved son’s wife? 

But now as she neared the place, and the meeting 
again was close at hand, her heart began to misgive her. 
What if she had made a mistake? What if this girl 
was not all those things that she had thought at that 
first sight? What if Arthur, too, had been deceived, 
and the girl would turn out to be frivolous, superficial, 
unlovely in her daily life, unfine in soul and thought? 
For was she, the mother, not responsible in a large way 
for this union of the two? Had she not fairly thrown 
her son into the way of knowing the girl, and furthered 
their first acquaintance in her letters in little subtle ways 
that she hardly realized at the time, but that had come 
from the longing of her soul to have a daughter just like 
what she fancied this girl must be? 

All the long miles she tortured her soul with these 
thoughts; and then would come the memory of the sweet, 
sad, girlish face she had watched a year ago, the strength, 
the character in the lovely profile of firm little chin and 
well-set head, the idealism in the clear eyes; and 
her heart would grow more sure. Then she would 
pray that all might be well, and again take out 
her son’s last letter, and read it over, especially the last 
few paragraphs. 

“You will love her, mother of mine, for she is just 


RE-CREATIONS 


363 


your ideal. I used to wonder how you were ever going 
to stand it when I did fall in love, to find out the girl was. 
not what you had dreamed I should marry. For I hon¬ 
estly thought there were no such girls as you had brought 
me up to look for. When I went to college and found 
what modern girls were, I used to pity you sometimes 
when you found out, too. But Cornelia is all and more 
than you would want. She goes the whole limit of your 
desire, I believe, for she is notably a Christian. I speak 
it very reverently, mother, because I have found few that 
are, at least, that are recognizable as such; and generally 
those have managed to make the fact unpleasant by the 
belligerent way in which they flaunt it, and because of 
their utter crudeness in every other way. Perhaps that 
isn’t fair, either. I have met a few who seemed genuine 
and good, but they were mortally shy, and never seemed 
to dare open their mouths. But this girl of mine is rare 
and fine. She can talk, and she can work, and she can 
live. She can be bright and gay, and she can suffer and 
strive; but she is a regular girl, and yet she is a Christian. 
You should hear her lead a Christian Endeavor meeting, 
striking right home to where everybody lives, and acts, 
and makes mistakes, and is sorry or forgetful as the case 
may be. You should hear her pray, leading everybody 
to the feet of Christ to be forgiven and learn. 

“Yes, mother, dear, she has led me there, too; and 
you have your great wish. I have given myself to your 
Christ and her’s. I feel that He is my Christ now, and I 
am going to try to live and work for His cause all the 


364 


RE-CREATIONS 


rest of my life. For, to tell the truth, mother, the Christ 
you lived and the Christ she lived was better than the 
best thing on earth, and I had to give in. I was a fool 
that I didn’t do it long ago, for I knew in my heart it 
was all true as you taught me, even though I did get a 
lot of rot against it when I was in college; but, when I 
saw a young girl with all of life before her giving herself 
to Christian living this way, it finished me. 

“So I guess you won’t feel badly about the way things 
turned out. And anyway you must remember you intro¬ 
duced us, and sort of wished her on me with those ferns; 
so you mustn’t complain. But I hope you’ll love her as 
much as you do me, and we are just waiting for you to 
get back for the ceremony, mother, dear; so don’t let 
anything hinder you by the way, and haste the day! It 
cannot come too soon.” 

She had telegraphed in answer to that letter that she 
would start at once. The day had been set for the wed¬ 
ding, and all arrangements made. Then a slight illness 
of her sister that looked more serious than it really was 
had delayed her again; and here she was travelling post¬ 
haste Philadelphiaward on the very day of the wedding, 
keeping everybody on the qui vive lest she would not get 
there in time and the ceremony would have to be delayed. 
All these twelve months had passed, and yet she had not 
seen the reconstructed little house on the hill. 

As she drew nearer the city, and the sun went down 
in the western sky, her heart began to quiver with excite¬ 
ment, mature, calm mother even though she was. But 


RE-CREATIONS 


365 


she had been a long time away against her will from her 
only son, and her afternoon with Cornelia had been very 
brief. Somehow she could not make it seem real that 
she was really going to Arthur’s wedding that night, and 
not going to have an opportunity to meet again the girl 
he was to marry until she was his wife, and never to have 
met her people until it was over, a final, a finished fact. 
She sighed a little wearily, and looked toward the evening 
bars of sunset red and gold, with a wish, as mothers do 
when hard pressed, that it were all over and she going 
home at last to rest, and a feeling that her time was out. 

Then right in the midst of it the brakeman touched 
her on the shoulder and handed her a telegram, with that 
unerring instinct for identity that such officials seem to 
have inborn. 

With trembling fingers and a vague presentment she 
tore it open, and read: 

“Cornelia and I will meet you at West Philadelphia 
with a car and take you to her home. Plave arranged to 
have your trunk brought up immediately from Broad 
Street, so you will have plenty of time to dress. Take 
it easy, little mother; we love you. Arthur.” 

Such a telegram! She sat back relieved, steadied her 
trembling lips, and smiled. Smiled, and read it over again. 
What a boy to make his bride come to the station to meet 
her two hours before the ceremony! What a girl to be 
willing to come! 

Suddenly the tears came rushing to her eyes, glad 
tears mingled with smiles, and she felt enveloped in the 


RE-CREATIONS 


30G 

love of her children. Her boy and her girl! Think of it! 
She would have a daughter! And she was a part of them; 
.she was to be in the close home part of the ceremony, the 
beforehand and the sweet excitement. They were wait¬ 
ing for her and wanting her, and she was not just a 
necessary part of it all because she was the groom’s mother; 
she was to stay his mother, and be mother to the girl; and 
she would perhaps be a sister to the girl’s mother, who 
was now also to be her boy’s mother. Now for the first 
time the bitterness was taken out of that thought about 
Arthur’s having another mother, and she was able to 
see how they two mothers could love him together, if the 
other one should prove to be the right kind of mother. 
And it now began to seem as if she must be to have brought 
up a girl like Cornelia. 

At that very moment in the little house on the hill 
four chattering college-girl bridesmaids attired in four be¬ 
coming silk negligees were bunched together on Cornelia’s 
bed, supposed to be resting before they dressed, while 
Cornelia, happy-eyed and calm, sat among them for a few 
minutes’ reunion. 

“Isn’t it awfully queer that you should be the first of 
the bunch to get married?” burst forth Natalie, the most 
engaged and engaging of the group. “I thought I was 
to be the very first myself right after I graduated, and 
here we’ve had to put it off three times because Tom lost 
his position. And Pearl broke her engagement, and Ruth’s 
gone into business, and Jane is up to her eyes in music. 
It seems queer to have things so different from what we 


RE-CREATIONS 


367 


planned, doesn’t it? My, how we pitied you, Cornie, that 
day you had to leave. It seems an awful shame you had 
to go home then, when such a little time would have given 
you all that fun to remember. I don’t see why such things 
have to happen anyway. I think it was just horrid you 
never graduated. I don’t see why somebody couldn’t have 
come in here and taken care of things till you got through. 
It meant so very much to you. You missed so much, you 
know, that you can never, never make up.” 

Cornelia from her improvised couch by the window 
smiled dreamily. 

‘‘Yes, but that was the day I met my new mother,” 
she said, almost as if she had forgotten their existence 
and were speaking to herself; “and she introduced me to 
Arthur. Probably I would never have seen either of them 
if I hadn’t come home just that day. 

A galaxy of eyes turned upon her, searching for ro¬ 
mance, and studied her sweet face greedily. 

“Don’t pity her any more girls,” cried Natalie. “She’s 
dead in love with him, and hasn’t missed us nor our com¬ 
mencement one little minute. She walked straight into 
the land of romance that day when she left us, and hasn’t 
thought of us since. I wonder she ever remembered to 
invite us to the wedding. But I’m not surprised either. 
If he’s half as stunning as his picture, he must be a pippin. 
I’m dying to meet him! What kind of a prune is his 
mother ? I think she must be horrid to demand your pres¬ 
ence at the station to meet her two hours before the cere¬ 
mony. I must say I’d make a kick at that.” 


368 


RE-CREATIONS 


“Oh,” said Cornelia, a haughty color coming into her 
cheeks. “You don’t understand. She didn’t demand! 
She doesn’t even know. Arthur and I are surprising 
her. Arthur just sent a telegram to the train for her 
to get off at the West Philadelphia station. She expected 
to go on to Broad Street. Oh! she is the dearest mother; 
jvait till you see her.” 

A tap at the door interrupted her, and Louise entered 
shyly. “Nellie, dear, I hate to interrupt you; but that 
man, that Mr. Ragan, has come; and he’s so anxious to 
see you just a minute mother said I better tell you so 
you could send him down a message. It’s something 
about the curtains for his house. I think he wants birds 
on them, or else he doesn’t, I don’t know which. He’s 
so afraid you’ve already ordered the material, and he 
wants it the way you said first, he says.” 

“That’s all right, darling; I think I’ll just run down 
and see him a minute ; he’s so anxious about his little 
house, and it will' reassure him if I explain about it. Tell 
him to wait just a minute till I slip on my dress.” 

A chorus of protests arose from the bed. 

“For mercy’s sake, Cornie, you’re surely not going 
down to see a man on business now! What on earth? 
Did you really get to be an interior decorator, after all? 
You don’t mean it! I thought you were just kidding 
when you wrote about it. What do you mean? They’re 
only poor people. Well, what do you care ? You’re surely 
not going on with such things after you’re married?” 

Cornelia, flinging the masses of her hair into a lovely 


RE-CREATIONS 


369 


coil f and fastening the snaps of her little blue organdie, 
smiled again dreamily. 

“Arthur likes it,” she said. “He wants me to go on. 
You see we both regard it, not exactly altogether as a 
business, but as something that is going to help uplift 
the world. I’ve done two really big houses, and they’ve 
been successful'; and I have had good opportunities open¬ 
ing, so that I could really get into a paying business if I 
chose, I think. But I don’t choose. Oh, I may do a fine 
house now and then if I get the chance, just to keep my 
hand in, for I enjoy putting rich and beautiful things 
together in the right way; but what I want is to help 
poor people do little cheap houses, and make them look 
pretty and comfortable and really artistic. So many don’t 
have pretty homes who would realty like them if they only 
knew how! Now, this man I’m going down to now is 
just a poor laborer; but he has been saving up his money 
to make a nice home for his girl, and he heard about me, 
and came to me to help him. I’ve been having the best 
fun picking out his things for him. I won’t get a great 
fee out of it; indeed, I hate to take anything; only he 
wouldn’t like that, but it’s been great! Arthur and I 
have been together out to see the little cottage twice, and 
arranged the new chairs for him; and I even made up the 
beds, and showed him how to set the table for their first 
meal. They are to be married next week, and he’s so 
worried lest the stuff I ordered for curtains won’t get 
here in time to finish his dining-room. But mother is 
going to finish them; and Harry and Carey will put them 
24 


370 


RE-CREATIONS 


up; and I want to tell him, so he will not worry.” With 
a bright smile Cornelia left them, and flew downstairs 
to her customer. 

“Goodness, girls! did you ever see such a change in 
any one? I can’t make her out, can you?” cried Jane, sit¬ 
ting up on the foot of the bed and looking after her. 

“I should say not?” declared Pearl. “What do you 
suppose has come over her? I suppose it’s being in love 
or something, although that doesn’t generally make a 
girl do slum work at a busy time like this. But I guess 
we wasted our pity on her. She said she was coming 
home to a horrid, poor little house. Did you ever see 
such a pretty nest of a house in your life? That living 
room is a dream. I’m crazy to get back to it and look 
it over again.” 

“Well, I never thought Cornie Copley would turn out 
to be that kind of a nut. Think of her going to the sta¬ 
tion to meet her mother-in-law just before the ceremony! 
Love certainly is blind. Girls you needn’t ever worry lest 
I’ll do anything of that kind, not me!” cried Natalie. “That 
man must be some kind of a nut himself, or else she’s 
been all made over somehow.” 

Jane tiptoed, and shut the door; and then in a whisper 
she said: “Girls, I want to tell you. I believe it’s religion. 
It’s queer, but I believe it is. I heard her talking about 
praying for somebody down in the hall when I stood up 
here waiting for my trunk to be unlocked by her brother. 
She was talking to her little sister, and they both seemed 
to be praying for something or somebody; and she’s men- 


RE-CREATIONS m 

tioned the church every other breath since we came, and 
the minister, and—look at there! There’s her Bible with 
her name in it. I opened it, and looked, and he gave it to 
her; ‘Cornelia from Arthur’; that’s what it says. And 
see that card framed over the table ? It’s a Christian En¬ 
deavor pledge-card. I know for I used to belong when I 
was a child. She’s going to have the Christian Endeavor 
society all at the wedding, too. I heard her say the Chris¬ 
tian Endeavor chorus was going to sing the wedding 
march before they came in, and she talks about the minis¬ 
ter’s daughter all the time. You may depend on it, it*s 
religion that’s the matter with Comie, not being in love. 
Cornie’s a level-headed girl, and she wouldn’t go out of 
her head this way just for falling in love. When religion 
gets into the blood it’s ten times worse than any falling in 
love ever. I wonder what her Arthur thinks of it. Maybe 
he means to take it out of her when he gets her good 
and tied.” 

“Don’t!” said Ruth sharply. “You make me sick, 
Jane. I don’t care what it is that has changed Comie. 
She’s sweet, I know; that’s all that’s necessary. And, if 
it’s religion, I wish we all had some of it. I know she 
looks all the time as if she’d seen a vision, and that’s what 
precious few other people do. Come, it’s time to take a 
nap, or we’ll look like withered leaves for this evening. 
Now stop talking! I’m going to sleep.” 

The passengers in the parlor-car glanced at the dis¬ 
tinguished-looking lady with the sweet smile and happy 
eyes, and glanced again, and liked to look, there was such 


372 


RE-CREATIONS 


joy, such content, such expectancy, in her face. More than 
one, as the train slowed down at West Philadelphia, and 
the porter gathered her baggage and escorted her out, 
sat up from his velvet chair and stretched his neck to see 
who was meeting this woman to make her so happy since 
that telegram had been brought to her. They watched 
until the train passed on and they could see no more— 
the tall, handsome young man who took her in his arms 
and kissed her, and the lovely girl in blue organdie with a 
little lace-edged organdie hat drooping about her sweet 
face, who greeted her as if she loved her. As far as the 
eye could reach Mrs. Maxwell’s fellow passengers watched 
the little bit of human drama, and wondered, and tried to 
figure out who they were and what relation they bore to 
one another. 

“You precious child, you shouldn’t have done it!” said 
Mrs. Maxwell, nestling Cornelia’s hand in her own as her 
son stowed them away in the back seat of the car together 
and whirled them away to the Copley house. “But it 
was dear of you, and I shall never forget it!” she said 
fervently with another squeeze of the hand. 

A few moments more, and she entered the living room 
that had been wrought out with such care and anxiety, 
and gazed about her, delighted. 

“I knew you would do it, dear. I knew it! I was 
sure you could,” she whispered with her arm around the 
girl; and then she went forward with a sigh of relief to 
meet the sweet mother of the Copleys, who came to greet 
her. The two mothers looked long into each other’s eyes, 

% 


RE-CREATIONS 


373 


with hands clasped and keen, loving, searching looks; and 
then a smile grew on both their faces. Mother Maxwell 
spoke first with a smile of content: 

“I was almost sure you would be like that,” she said; 
“and I’m going to love you a great deal”; and Mother 
Copley, her face placid with a calm that had its source in 
deep springs of peace, smiled back an answering love. 

Then came father Copley, and grasped the other 
mother’s hand, and bade her welcome too; and after that 
mother Maxwell was satisfied, and went to dress for 
the wedding. 

The four bridesmaids did not see much of Cornelia, 
after all; for, when she came back from her ride, they 
were all breathlessly manipulating curling-irons and 
powder-puffs, tying sashes, and putting on pretty slippers; 
and no one had time to talk of other things. It seemed 
to be only Cornelia who was calm at this last minute, 
who knew where the shoe-horn had been put, could find a 
little gold pin to fasten a refractory ribbon, and had time 
to fix a drooping wave of hair or adjust a gar¬ 
land of flowers. 

It had been Cornelia’s wish that her wedding should 
be very simple and inexpensive; and, though the brides¬ 
maids had written many letters persuading and suggesting 
rainbow hues and dahlia shades, and finally pleaded for 
jades and corals, all was to no effect. Cornelia merely 
smiled, and wrote back: “I want you all in white, if you 
please, just simple white organdie, made with a deep hem 
and little ruffles; and then I want you to have each a gar- 





S74 RE-CREATIONS 

land of daisies around your hair, and daisies in your arms.* 
“White for bridesmaids!” they cried as one maid, 
“Who ever heard of such a thing?” 

But the answer came back: “This isn’t going to be a 
conventional wedding. We’re just going to get married, 
and we want our dearest friends about us. I love white, 
and the daisies will be lovely on it and do away with 
hats. I’m going to wear a veil. I like a veil; but my dress 
is white organdie, too, and I’ll have white roses.” 

And so it was, all natural and sweet like an old-fash¬ 
ioned country affair, and not one convention out of a thou¬ 
sand observed in the order and form of things. 

For the bride herself had decked the church with the 
aid of her bridegroom and her brother and Grace Kendall. 
The lace-like boughs of tall hemlocks drooped back of 
the altar, and smothered the pulpit; and against it rose a 
waving field of daisies with grasses softly blending. The 
little field-flowers were arranged in concealed glass jars 
of water so that they kept fresh and beautiful, and were 
so massed that they seemed to be growing there. All 
about the choir gallery the daisies were massed, a bit of 
nature transplanted to .the quiet temple. Every one ex¬ 
claimed softly on entering the church at the wonderful 
effect of the feathery, starry beauty. It was as if a bit 
of the out-of-door world had crept into the sanctuary to 
grace the occasion. God’s world and God’s flowers of 
the field. 

There were not many mighty among the guests. A 
choice few of the Maxwell and Copley connection and 


RE-CREATIONS 


575 


friends; the rest were new acquaintances, of all stations 
in life, all trades and professions, many humble wor¬ 
shippers in the church whom Cornelia and Maxwell had 
come to respect and love. 

The two mothers came in together, and sat down side 
by side, attended by Harry and his father. Harry had 
most strenuously objected to being of the wedding party 
when it was suggested. He said he “couldn’t see making 
a monkey of himself, all dolled up, going up the church 
aisle to music. ,, 

Grace Kendall was at the organ, of course, and above 
the daisy-bordered gallery the Christian Endeavor choir 
girls all in white, with wreaths of green leaves in their 
hair, sang the bridal chorus; and from the doors at either 
side of the front of the church there filed forth the brides¬ 
maids and the ushers. The bridesmaids were led by Louise 
as maid of honor, with a wreath of daisies among her curls 
and a garland of daisies trailing down from her left 
shoulder over the little white organdie that made her 
look like a young angel. Carey as best man led the ushers, 
who were four warm friends of Maxwell’s; and on either 
side of the altar they waited, facing toward the front 
door as Cornelia and Maxwell came arm in arm up the 
middle aisle together. 

It was all quite natural and simple, though the brides¬ 
maids were disappointed at the lack of display and the 
utter disregard of convention and precedent. 

The minister spoke the service impressively, and added 
a few words of his own that put the ceremony quite out 


375 


RE-CREATIONS 


of the ordinary; and his prayer seemed to bring God 
quite near among them, as if He had come especially to 
bless this union of His children. Mother Maxwell’s heart 
suddenly overflowed with happy tears, and the four brides¬ 
maids glanced furtively and knowingly at one another be¬ 
neath their garlands of daisies, as if to say, “It is religion, 
after all; and this is where she got it”; and then they began 
to listen and to wonder for themselves. 

After it was over the bride and the groom turned smil¬ 
ingly and walked back down the aisle, preceded by Louise 
and Carey, and followed by the bridesmaids and ushers; 
and everybody rose and smiled, and broke the little hush of 
breathless attention with a soft murmur of happy approval. 

“Such a pretty wedding, so sweet! so dear!” Mother 
Maxwell could hear them breathing it on every hand as 
she walked out with Mother Copley. 

Then just a chosen few came home to the wedding 
supper, which had been planned and partly prepared by 
Cornelia herself; and everybody was talking about the 
lovely wedding and the quiet, easy way in which every¬ 
thing moved without fuss or hurry or excitement, right 
and natural and as it all should be when two persons joined 
hands and walked out together into the new life. 

“It is something inside her that makes her different,” 
hazarded a sleepy bridesmaid several hours later, after the 
others had been still a long time and were almost asleep. 
“But wasn’t it lovely? Only field-daisies and the grass 
and old pine-trees; but it certainly was a dream even if 
we didn’t get to do much marching. Well, Cornelia 
Copley always did know how to decorate.” 


The Novels of 

Grace Livingston Hill 

May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap’s list. 

Many thousands of readers have found inspiration and happi¬ 
ness in reading the novels of Grace Livingston Hill. In her 
charming romances there is a sympathetic buoyant spirit that 

conquers discouragement, 

which teaches that true love and 

happiness will come out of the worst trial. 

Amorelle 

The Voice in the Wilderness 

The Ransom 

The Beloved Stranger 

Patch of Blue 

Happiness Hill 

Kerry 

The Challengers 

The Chance of a Lifetime 

The City of Fire 

Silver Wings 

Cloudy Jewel 

Ladybird 

Dawn of the Morning 

The White Lady 

The Enchanted Barn 

The Gold Shoe 

Exit Betty 

Found Treasure 

The Finding of Jasper Holt 

Blue Ruin 

The Girl from Montana 

The Prodigal Girl 

Lo, Michael 

Duskin 

The Man of the Desert 

Crimson Roses 

Marcia Schuyler 

Out of the Storm 

Phoebe Deane 

The Honor Girl 

The Red Signal 

Job’s Niece 

Tomorrow About This Time 

A New Name 

The Tryst 

Ariel Custer 

The Witness 

The Best Man 

Not Under the Law 

Re-Creations 

The White Flower 

GROSSET & DUNI.AP 

Publishers NEW YORK 











FAITH BALDWIN’S 

Delightful Stories of 

ROMANCE AND YOUNG MARRIAGE 


May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap’s list. 


She writes about the people you know—The girl next door, the 
man who rides down the elevator with you, the people in your 
office—their loves, their ambitions, their dreams—these are the 
people about whom Faith Baldwin writes. In her stories you 
will come to know them better than you have ever known them 
before. 

AMERICAN FAMILY 

WIFE VERSUS SECRETARY 
HONOR BOUND 

INNOCENT BYSTANDER 
WHITE COLLAR GIRL 
LOVE’S A PUZZLE 
BEAUTY 

SELF-MADE WOMAN 
DISTRICT NURSE 
WEEK-END MARRIAGE 
GARDEN OATS 
MAKE BELIEVE 
TODAY’S VIRTUE 


GROSSET & DUNLAP Publishers NEW YORK 







Temple Bailey’s Charming Novels 

May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap’s list. 


THE RADIANT TREE. Unusual short stories in which Miss Bailey 
shows her knowledge of character and her skill in romance tales. 
ENCHANTED GROUND. The story of the love of young Dr. Peter 
Ferry for Mary Hamilton, with her bright beauty and her desperate 
need of his protection and care, is here presented in all its power and 
pathos. 

LITTLE GIRL LOST. Youth, beauty, the adoration of two men were 
Araminta’s. Barney offered marriage, Janney insisted that friendship 
would fill her life. Out of this conflict came the gripping climax. 
WILD WIND. A girl’s sacrifice for the children of her sister is the 
keynote of the heart-stirring love story. 

BURNING BEAUTY. Beautiful Virginia Oliphant is loved by two 
men; one tempts her with millions, and the other tempts her widi 
nothing more than his devotion. 

SILVER SLIPPERS. Days of delight and disillusionment until Joan 
Dudley’s knight actually came. 

WALL FLOWERS. They were twins, they were "Wall Flowers” per¬ 
haps—but they were beautiful, and young and real. 

THE BLUE WINDOW. Hildegarde finds herself transplanted from 
the middle western farm to the gay social whirl of the East. 
PEACOCK FEATHERS. Jerry, the idealist, loves Mimi, a beautiful 
spoiled society girl. A conflict of wealth and love. 

THE DIM LANTERN. The romance of little Jane Barnes who is 
loved by two men. 

TRUMPETER SWAN. Randy Paine came back from France to the 
monotony of everyday affairs. But a girl showed him the beauty in 
the commonplace. 

THE TIN SOLDIER. Derry wishes to serve his country but is bound 
by a tie he cannot in honor break. Jean loves him and shares his 
humiliation to help him win. 

MISTRESS ANNE. Into the life of Anne came two men; one is weak 
and the other strong and they both need Anne. 

CONTRARY MARY. An old fashioned love story that has a very 
modern application. 

GLORY OF YOUTH. An old question yet ever new—how far should 
an engagement of marriage bind two persons who find they no longer 
love? 


GROSSET & DUNLAP 


Publishers 


NEW YORK 










The Novels of Sinclair Lewis 


May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap’s list. 


Within the space of a few years, Sinclair Lewis has become one of 
the most distinguished of American novelists—and the first American 
to win the Nobel prize for literature. 

ANN VICKERS 

Ann Vickers is a product of the twentieth century—a woman, fearless 
and dauntless, who set out to do things. Mr. Lewis draws a frank, 
enduring picture of Ann, one that has life and color and speed against 
a background teeming with the questions and causes of the day. 

DODSWORTH 

Dodsworth is another Main Street, sophisticated and matured, with a 
new problem, but the same broad pages full of the most excellent re¬ 
porting. No one who is interested in American life should miss it. 

ELMER GANTRY 

By successful advertising methods in the best Babbitt tradition, Elmer 
Gantry, Methodist Pastor, hypocrite and voluptuary, becomes a power 
in a large community. 

ARROWSMITH 

The story of a country doctor whose search for the truth led him to the 
heights of the medical profession, through the tests of love and mar¬ 
riage and to final peace as a quietly heroic laboratory worker. 

BABBITT 

Every man will recognize in the character of George Babbitt some¬ 
thing of himself. He was a booster and a joiner, but behind all of his 
activities was a wistful wonder as to what life holds. 

MAIN STREET 

An absorbing drama of real life in the average small town as seen 
through the eyes of an impressionable young girl who married the 
local doctor. 


GROSSET & DUNLAP 

Publishers 

NEW YORK 










FASCINATING NOVELS 

By RUBY M. AYRES 

May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosser & Dunlap's list. 


Ruby M. Ayres wrote fairy tales as a child but did not start writing in earnest 
until she was about twenty-five years of age. Today she is one of the most 
popular authors along with Margaret Pedler and Ethel M. Dell of the roman¬ 
tic novel of love and marriage. 

LOVE IS SO BLIND 

Jo was twenty years younger than her husband and wanted some fun and 
just a little love. How she got more than she bargained for makes an appeal¬ 
ing romance. 

FROM THIS DAY FORWARD 

The heart stirring story of Willow who married unromantic Bob the day she 
lost Peter and her job—only to have Peter reenter her life later. 

ALWAYS TOMORROW 

Sally had always dreamed of being Durie’s wife—so when the chance came 
she proposed to him, even though she knew he loved Lilian. 

COME TO MY WEDDING 

"Come to my wedding,” Gyp Farrow invited David when she was nine. But 
when she was nineteen ... a delightful romance of beleaguered young 
lovers. 

THAN THIS WORLD DREAMS OF 
A tender and warm-hearted romance of three in love. 

ALL OVER AGAIN 

Is first love the best love ? As a little girl she had loved him—and now when 
she was grown up and a married woman—she still loved him. She was mar¬ 
ried to Geoffry—but this was the man she loved—the man to whom she 
belonged. 

MUCH LOVED 

Breckie felt lonely and unloved. She decided that money was the only thing 
that mattered. She thought that Jim Cromer, a wealthy dilettante would be 
her way out, until Simon Wood and a foolish mongrel dog entered her life 
one rainy Wednesday. A story delightfully told. 


GROSSET & DUNLAP 


Publishers 


NEW YORK 











Emilie Loring’s Fascinating Novels 


May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosser & Dunlap’s list. 


"Refreshing”—is the word which best describes Mrs. Loring’s de¬ 
lightful romances. There is always a fascinating plot twist and her 
characters arv the kind of high-spirited people you’d like to meet in 
real life. 

WE RIDE THE GALE! 

Michael fell in love with his sister-in-law at first sight, but she de¬ 
tested anyone by the name of Farr. 

UNCHARTED SEAS 

A romance of the turf world, of Sandra Duval, torn between love 
and loyally, and the strange phantom of the old stone house. 

HILLTOPS CLEAR 

Prudence Schuyler distrusted all wealthy young men and Rodney 
Gerard had a hard time proving he was an exception. 

FAIR TOMORROW 

Against a background of the incomparable Cape Cod, the life lines of 
Pamela and Scott cross the tangle. 

LIGHTED WINDOWS 

The dramatic romance of a young engineer and a beautiful society 
girl, with the wilds of Alaska as a setting. 

SWIFT WATER 

The story of a high-spirited, impetuous girl who fell in love with 
a man against her will. 

GAY COURAGE 

Geoffrey returns home after many years of aimless drifting to find 
adventure far beyond his expectations. 

A CERTAIN CROSSROAD 

When Judith and Neil met at a certain crossroad neither suspected 
the thrilling events in store for them. 

THE SOLITARY HORSEMAN 

Because of a fatal accident, Tony renounced weakh and started life 
anew. Romance and adventure in New England. 

THE TRAIL OF CONFLICT 

Stephen marries Geraldine to save his father from financial ruin and 
then the two struggle to find a way to happiness. 


GROSSLY & DUNLAP Publishers NEW YORK 















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